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JACK 

O’ JUDGMENT 


BY 

EDGAR WALLACE 

Author of 

''The Clue of the Twisted Candle” "Tam o' the Scoots” 
"Green Bust,” etc, * 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 





Copyright, 1921 

BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
(1ncobpobat£d) 


»)CI.A827794 


OCT 26 iy2! 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


I. 

The Knave of Clubs .... 


1 

II. 

Jack 0 ^ Judgment — His Card. 


9 

III. 

The Decoy 


21 

IV. 

Missing 


26 

V. 

In the Magistrate’s Court . 


35 

VI. 

Stafford King Resigns . 


43 

VII. 

The Colonel Conducts His Business 

50 

VIII. 

The Listener at the Door . 


57 

IX. 

The Colonel Employs a Detective 


65 

X. 

The Greek 


72 

XI. 

The Colonel at Scotland Yard . 


77 

XII. 

Buying a Nursing Home . 


88 

XIII. 

The Love of Stafford King . 


93 

XIV. 

The Abduction of Maisie White . 


97 

XV. 

The Commissioner Has a Theory 


102 

XVI. 

In the Turkish Baths .... 


107 

XVII. 

Solomon Comes Back . 


112 

XVIII. 

The Judgment of Death . 


118 

XIX. 

The Colonel is Shocked . 


123 

XX. 

Swell Crewe Backs Out . 


132 

XXI. 

The Bride of Death .... 


137 

XXII. 

Maisie Tells Her Story . 


142 

XXIII. 

The Gang Fund 


151 

XXIV. 

Pinto Goes North .... 

, 

159 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XXV. 

A Patron of Charity .... 

. 169 

XXVI. 

The Soldier Who Followed 

. 177 

XXVII. 

The Capture of ^^Jack” . 

. 183 

XXVIII. 

The Passing of Phillopolis 

. 191 

XXIX. 

The Voice in the Room . 

. 202 

XXX. 

Diamonds for the Bank . . 

. 212 

XXXI. 

The Voice Again 

. 221 

XXXII. 

Lollie Goes Away 

. 228 

XXXIII. 

Where the Voice Lived .... 

. 234 

XXXIV. 

Conscience Money 

. 239 

XXXV. 

The Aviator 

. 247 

XXXVI. 

Lolhe Proposes 

. 256 

XXXVII. 

The Fall of Pinto ^ . . . . 

. 261 

XXXVIII. 

Old Films 

. 267 

XXXIX. 

Jack 0 ^ Judgment Revealed . , 

. 279 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


CHAPTER I 

THE KNAVE OP CLUBS 

They picked up the young man called “ Snow” 
Gregory from a Lambeth gutter, and he was dead before 
the policeman on duty in Waterloo Road, who had 
heard the shots, came upon the scene. 

He had been shot in his tracks on a night of snow 
and storm, and none saw the murder. When they got 
him to the mortuary and searched his clothes they 
found nothing except a little tin box of white powder, 
which proved to be cocaine, and a playing card — the 
“jack” of clubs. 

His associates had called him Snow Gregory because 
he was a dope fiend, and cocaine is invariably referred to 
as “snow” by all its votaries. He was a gambler, too, 
and he had been associated with Colonel Dan Boundary 
in certain of his business enterprises. That was all. 
The colonel knew nothing of the young man’s antece- 
dents except that he had been an Oxford man who had 
come down in the world. The colonel added a few par- 
ticulars designed, as it might seem to the impartial 
observer, to prove that he, the colonel, had ever been 
an uplifting quantity. 

There were people who said that Snow Gregory in his 
more exalted moments talked too much for the colonel’s 
comfort, but people were very ready to talk unkindly 

1 


2 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


of the colonel, whose wealth was an offense and a shame. 

So they buried Snow Gregory, the unknown, and a 
jury of his fellow countrymen returned a verdict of 
“willful murder against some person or persons 
unknown. ” 

And there was the end of a sordid tragedy, it seemed, 
until three months later there dawned upon Colonel 
Boundary’s busy life a brand-new and alarming factor. 

One morning there arrived at his palatial apartment 
in Albermarle Place a letter. This he opened because it 
was marked “Private and Personal.” It was not a 
letter at all — as it proved — but a soiled and stained 
playing card, the knave of clubs. 

He looked at the thing in perplexity, for the fate of 
his erstwhile assistant had long since passed from his 
mind. Then he saw writing on the margin of the card 
and, twisting it sideways, read: “Jack o’ Judgment.” 
Nothing more. 

“Jack o’ Judgment?” 

The colonel screwed up his tired eyes as if to shut out 
a vision. 

“Faugh!” he said in disgust and dropped the paste- 
board into his waste-paper basket. 

For he had seen a vision, a white face, unshaven and 
haggard, its lips parted in a little grin, the smile of Snow 
Gregory on the last time they had met. 

Later came other cards and unpleasant, not to say 
disconcerting happenings, and the colonel, taking coun- 
sel with himself, determined to kill two birds with one 
stone. 

It was a daring and audacious thing to have done, 
and none but Colonel Dan Boundary would have taken 


THE KNAVE OF CLUBS 


3 


the risk. He knew better than anybody else that Stafford 
King had devoted the whole of his time for the past 
three years to smashing the Boundary gang. He knew 
that this grave young man with the steady gray eyes, 
who sat on the other side of the big Louis XV table in 
the ornate private office of the Spillsbury Syndicate, 
had won his way to the chief position in the criminal 
intelligence department by sheer genius, and that he was, 
of all men, the most to be feared. 

No greater contrast could be imagined than that which 
was presented between the two protagonists — the 
refined almost aesthetic chief of police on the one hand, 
the big, commanding figure of the redoubtable colonel 
on the other. 

Boundary, with his black hair parted in the center 
of his sleek head, his big, weary eyes, his long, yellow, 
walrus mustache, his double chin, his breadth and girth, 
his enormous hairy hands now laid upon the table, might 
stand for force, brutal, remorseless, untiring. He stood 
for cunning, too — the cunning of the stalking tiger. 

Stafford was watching him with dispassionate interest. 
He may have been secretly amused at the man’s sheer 
daring, but if he was, his inscrutable face displayed no 
such emotion. 

dare say, Mr. King,” said the colonel in his slow, 
heavy way, “you think it is rather remarkable in all the 
circumstances that I should ask you to call. I dare say, 
he went on, “my business associates will think the 
same, considering all the unpleasantness we have 
had.” 

Stafford King made no reply. He sat erect, alert and 
watchful. 


4 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


''Give a dog a bad name and hang him/’ said the 
colonel sententiously. '‘For twenty years I’ve had to 
fight the unjust suspicions of my enemies. I’ve been 
libeled” — he shook his head sorrowfully — "I don’t 
suppose there’s anybody been libeled more than me — 
and my business associates. I’ve had the police nosing — 
I mean investigating — into my affairs; and I’ll be 
straight with you, Mr. Stafford King, and teU you that 
when it came to my ears and the ears of my business 
associates that you had been put on the job of watching 
poor old Dan Boundary, I was glad. ” 

"Is that intended as a compliment?” asked Stafford, 
with the faintest suspicion of a smile. 

"Every way,” said the colonel emphatically. "In the 
first place, Mr. King, I know that you are the straightest 
and most honest police oflicial in England, and possibly 
in the world. All I want is justice. My life is an open 
book, which courts the fullest investigation. ” 

He spread out his huge hands as though inviting an 
even closer inspection than had been afforded him 
hitherto. 

Mr. Stafford King made no reply. He knew, very 
well he knew, the stories which had been told about 
the Boundary gang. He knew a little and guessed a lot 
about its extraordinary ramifications. He was well 
aware, at any rate, that it was rich, and that this slow- 
speaking man could command millions. But he was far 
from desiring to endorse the colonel’s inferred claim as 
to the purity of his business methods. 

He leaned a little forward. 

“I am sure you didn’t send for me to tell me all about 
your hard lot, colonel,” he said a little ironically. 


THE KNAVE OF CLUBS 


5 


The colonel shook his head. 

“I wanted to get to know you,” he said with fine 
frankness; ^HVe heard a lot about you, Mr. King. I am 
told you do nothing but specialize on the Boundary 
enterprises, and I tell you, sir, that you can't know too 
much about me, nor can I know too much about you.” 
He paused. “But you’re quite right when you say that 
I didn’t ask you to come here — and a great honor it is 
for a big police chief to spare time to come to see me — 
to discuss the past. It is the present I want to talk 
to you about.” 

Stafford King nodded. 

“I’m a law-abiding citizen,” said the colonel 
unctuously, “and anything I can do to assist the law, 
why, I’m going to do it. I wrote you on this matter 
about a fortnight ago.” 

He opened a drawer and took out a large envelope 
embossed with a monogram of the Spillsbury Syndicate. 
This he opened and extracted a plain playing card. It 
was a white-backed card of superfine texture, gilt-edged 
and bore on its face a familiar figure. 

“The knave of clubs,” said Stafford King, lifting his 
eyes. 

“The jack of clubs,” said the colonel gravely; “that 
is its name, I understand, for I am not a gambling man. ” 

He did not bat a lid, nor did Stafford King smile. 

“ I remember, ” said the detective chief ; “ you received 
one before. You wrote to my department about it.” 

The colonel nodded. 

“Read what’s written underneath.” 

King lifted the card nearer to his eyes, the writing 
was almost microscopic and read: 


6 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


^^Save crime, save worry, save all unpleasantness. Give 
back the property you stole from Spillsbury.^^ 

It was signed “Jack o’ Judgment.” 

King put the card down and looked across at the 
colonel. 

“What happened after the last card came?” he asked. 
“There was a burglary or something, wasn’t there?” 

“The last card, ” said the colonel, clearing his throat, 
“contained a diabolical and unfounded charge that I 
and my business associates had robbed Mr. George 
Fetter, the Manchester merchant, of sixty thousand 
pounds by means of card tricks — a low practice, of 
which I would not be guilty, nor would any of my business 
associates. My friends and myself knowing nothing of 
any card game, we, of course, refused to pay Mr. Fetter, 
and I am sure Mr. Fetter would be the last person who 
would ask us to do so. As a matter of fact, he did give us 
bills for sixty thousand pounds, but that was in relation 
to a sale of property. I cannot imagine that Mr. Fetter 
would ever take money from us, or that he knew of this 
business. I hope not, because he seems a very respectable 
gentleman. ” 

The detective looked at the card again. 

“What is this story of the Spillsbury deal?” he asked. 

“What is that story of the Spillsbury deal?” said the 
colonel. 

He had a trick of repeating questions; it was a trick 
which frequently gave him a very necessary breathing 
space. 

“Why, there’s nothing to it. I bought the motor 
works. I admit it was a good bargain. There’s no law 
against making a profit. You know what business is.” 


THE KNAVE OF CLUBS 


7 


The detective knew what business was. Boyd Spills- 
bury was young and wild, and his wildness assumed an 
unpleasant character. It was the kind of wildness which 
people do not talk about — at least, not nice people. He 
had inherited a considerable fortune, and the control 
of four factories, the best of which was the one under 
discussion. 

know Spillsbury, said the detective, “and I 
happen to know Spillsbury’s works. I also know that 
he sold you a property worth three hundred thousand 
pounds in the open market for a sum which was grossly 
inadequate — thirty thousand pounds, was it not?” 

“Thirty-five thousand pounds,” corrected the colonel. 
“There’s no law against making a bargain, ” he repeated. 

“You’ve been very fortunate with your bargains.” 

Stafford King rose and picked up his hat. 

“You bought Transome’s Hotel from young Mrs. 
Rachemeyer for a sum which was less than a twentieth 
of its worth. You bought Lord Bethon’s slate quarries 
for twelve thousand pounds; their value in the open 
market was at least one hundred thousand pounds. For 
the past fifteen years you have been acquiring property 
at an amazing rate — and at an amazing price. ” 

The colonel smiled. 

“You’re paying me a great compliment, Mr. Stafford 
King,” he said with a touch of sarcasm, “and I will never 
forget it. But don’t let us get away from the object of 
your coming. I am reporting to you as a police officer, 
that I have been threatened by a blackguard, a thief, 
and very likely a murderer. I will not be responsible for 
any action I may take. Jack o’ Judgment, indeed!” he 
growled. 


8 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


^^Have you ever seen him?” asked Stafford. 

The colonel frowned. 

“He’s alive, ain’t he?” he retorted. “If I’d seen him 
do you think he’d be writing me letters? It is your job 
to pinch him. If you people down at Scotland Yard 
spent less time poking into the affairs of honest business 
men and more ” 

Stafford King was smiling now, frankly and undis- 
guisedly. His gray eyes were creased with silent laughter . 

“Colonel, you have some nerve!” he said admiringly, 
and with no other word he left the room. 


CHAPTER II 


JACK JUDGMENT — HIS CARD 

The wrong side of a stage door was the outside on a 
night such as this was. The rain was bucketing down 
and a chill northwester howled up the narrow passage 
leading from the main street to the tiny entry. 

But the outside, and the darkest corner of the cul-de- 
sac from whence the stage door of the Orpheum Music 
Hall was reached, satisfied Stafford King. He drew 
farther into the shadow at sight of the figure which picked 
a way along the passage and paused only at the open 
doorway to furl his umbrella. 

Pinto Silva, immaculately attired with a white rose 
in the buttonhole of his faultless dress jacket, had no 
doubt in his mind as to which was the most desirable side 
of the stage door. He passed in, nodding carelessly to the 
doorkeeper. 

'‘A rotten night, Joe,” he said. ''Miss White hasnT 
gdne yet, has she?” 

"No, sir,” said the man obsequiously; "she’s only 
just left the stage a few minutes. Shall I tell her you’re 
here, sir?” 

Pinto shook his head. 

He was a good-looking man of thirty-five. There 
were some who would go further and describe him as 
handsome, though his peculiar style of good looks might 
not be to everybody’s taste. The olive complexion, the 
9 


10 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


black eyes, the well-curled mustache and the effeminate 
chin had their attractions, and Pinto Silva admitted 
modestly in his reminiscent moments that there were 
women who had raved about him. 

‘‘Miss White is in No. 6, ’’ said the doorkeeper. “Shall 
I send somebody along to tell her you’re here?” 

“You needn’t trouble,” said the other; “she won’t 
be long now. ” 

The girl, hurrying along the corridor, fastening her 
coat as she came, stopped dead at the sight of him and 
a look of annoyance came to her face. She was tall for 
a girl, perfectly proportioned, and something more than 
pretty. 

Pinto lifted his hat with a smile. 

I ve just been in front. Miss White. An excellent 
performance!” 

Thank you, she said simply, did not see you.” 

He nodded, y 

There was a complacency in his nod which irritated 
her. It almost seemed to infer that she was not speaking 
the truth and that he was humoring her in her deception. 

“You’re quite comfortable?” he asked. 

“Quite,” she replied politely. 

She was obviously anxious to end the interview, and 
at a loss as to how she could. 

“Dressing room comfortable, everybody respectful 
and all that sort of thing? ” he asked. “Just say the word 
if they give you trouble, and I’ll have them kicked out, 
whoever they are, from the manager downward. ” 

“Oh, thank you,” she said hurriedly; “everybody is 
most polite and nice.” She held out her hand. “I am 
afraid I must go now. A — a friend is waiting for me. ” 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT — HIS CARD 11 


‘‘One minute, Miss White. He licked his lips, and 
there was an unaccustomed embarrassment in his man- 
ner. “Maybe you’ll come one night after the show and 
have a little supper. You know I’m very keen on you and 
all that sort of thing.” 

“I know you’re very keen on me and all that sort of 
thing,” said Maisie White, a note of irony in her voice; 
“but unfortunately I’m not very keen on supper and all 
that sort of thing.” She smiled and again held out her 
hand. “ I’ll say good night now. ” 

“Do you know, Maisie ” he began. 

“ Good night, ” she said, and brushed past him. 

He looked after her as she disappeared into the dark- 
ness, a little frown gathering on his forehead; then, with 
a shrug of his shoulders, he walked slowly back to the 
doorkeeper’s office. 

He waited impatiently, chewing his cigar, till the 
dripping figure of the doorkeeper reappeared with the 
information that the car was at the end of the passage. 
He put up his umbrella and walked through the pelting 
rain to where his limousine stood. 

Pinto Silva was angry, and his anger was of the hateful, 
smouldering type which grows in strength from moment 
to moment and from hour to hour. How dare she treat 
him like this? She, who owed her engagement to his 
influence, and whose fortune and future were in his 
hands! He would speak to the colonel, and the colonel 
could speak to her father. He had had enough of 
this. 

He recognized with a start that he was afraid of the 
girl. It was incredible, but it was true. He had never 
felt that way about a woman before, but there was 


12 


JACK JUDGMENT 


something in her eyes, a cold disdain, which cowed even 
as it maddened him. 

The car drew up before a block of buildings in a deserted 
West End thoroughfare. He flashed on the electric light 
and saw that the hour was a little after eleven. The 
last thing in the world he wanted was to take part in a 
conference that night. But if he wanted anything less, 
it was to annoy the colonel at this moment of crisis. 

He walked through the dark vestibule and entered an 
automatic elevator, which carried him to the third floor. 
Here the landing and the corridor were illuminated by 
one small electric lamp, sufiicient to light him to the 
heavy walnut doors which led to the office of the Spills- 
bury Syndicate. He opened the door with a latchkey 
and found himself in a big lobby, furnished in good style. 

A man was sitting before a radiator, a paper pad upon 
his knees, and he was making notes with a pencil. He 
Jooked up, startled, as the other entered and nodded. 
It was Olaf Hanson, the colonel’s clerk — and Olaf, with 
his flat, expressionless face and his stiff, upstanding hair, 
always reminded Pinto of a struwwelpeter which had been 
cropped. 

‘‘Hello, Hanson. Is the colonel inside? 

The man nodded. 

“They’re waiting for you,” he said. 

His voice was hard and unsympathetic, and his thin 
lips snapped out every syllable. 

“Aren’t you coming in?” asked Pinto in surprise, 
his hand upon the door. 

The man called Hanson shook his head. 

“I’ve got to go to the colonel’s flat,” he said, “to get 
some papers. Besides, they don’t want me. ” 


JACK JUDGMENT — HIS CARD 


13 


He smiled quickly and wanly. It was a grimace rather 
than an expression of amusement, and Pinto eyed him 
narrowly. He had, however, the good sense to ask no 
further questions. Turning the handle of the door, he 
walked into the large, ornate apartment. 

In the center of the room was a big table, and the 
chairs at its side were, for the most part, filled. 

He dropped into a seat on the colonel’s right and 
nodded to the others at the table. Most of the principals 
were there — “Swell” Crewe, Jackson, Cresswell, and 
at the farther end of the table Lollie Marsh, with her 
baby face and her permanent expression of open-mouthed 
wonder. 

“Where’s White?” he asked. 

The colonel was reading a letter and did not immed- 
iately reply. Presently he took off his pince-nez and 
put them into his pocket. 

“Where’s White?” he repeated. “White isn’t here. 
No, White isn’t here, ” he repeated significantly. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Pinto quickly. 

The colonel scratched his chin and looked up to the 
ceiling. 

“I’m settling up this Spillsbury business,” he said; 
“White isn’t in it.” 

“Why not?” asked Silva. 

“He never was in it,” said the colonel evasively; “it 
was not the kind of business that White would like to be 
in. I guess he’s getting moral or something, or maybe 
it’s that daughter of his. ” 

The eyelids of Pinto Silva narrowed at the reference 
to Maisie White, and he was on the point of remarking 
that he had just left her, but changed his mind. 


14 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


“Does she know anything about — about her father?” 
he asked. 

The colonel smiled, 

“Why, no — unless you’ve told her.” 

“I’m not on those terms,” said Pinto savagely. “I’m 
getting tired of that girl’s airs and graces, colonel, after 
what we’ve done for her!” 

“You’ll get tireder, Pinto,” said a voice from the end 
of the table, and he turned round to meet the laughing 
eyes of Lollie Marsh. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I’ve been out taking a look at her today,” she said, 
and the colonel scowled at her. 

“You were out taking a look at something else, if I 
remember rightly,” he said quietly. “I told you to get 
after Stafford King.” 

“And I got after him,” she said, “and after the girl, 
too.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“That’s a bit of news for you, isn’t it?” She was 
delighted to drop the bombshell. “You can’t shadow 
Stafford King without crossing the tracks of Maisie 
White.” 

The colonel uttered an exclamation. 

“What do you mean?” he asked again. 

“Didn’t you know they were acquainted? Didn’t you 
know that Stafford King goes down to Horsham to see her, 
and takes her to dinner twice a week? ” 

They looked at one another in consternation. Maisie 
White was the daughter of a man who, next to the colonel, 
had been the most daring member of the gang, who had 
organized more coups than any other man except its 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT — HIS CARD 15 


leader. The news that the daughter of Solomon White 
was meeting the chief of the criminal intelligence depart- 
ment was incrediMe and stunning. 

“So that’s it, is it?” said the colonel, licking his dry 
lips. “That’s why Solomon White’s fed up with the life 
and wants to break away.” 

He turned to Pinto Silva, whose face was set and hard. 
“I thought you were keen on that girl, Pinto,” he said 
coarsely. “We left the way open to you. What do you 
know about it? ” 

“ Nothing, ” said the man shortly. “I don’t believe it. ” 
“Don’t believe it?” broke in the girl. “Listen! There 
was a matinee at the Orpheum today, and King went 
there. I followed him in and got a seat next to him and 
tried to be friendly. But he had only eyes for the girl 
on the stage, and I might as well have been the paper 
on the wall for all the notice he took of me. After her 
act he went out and waited for her at the stage door. 
They went to Roymoyer’s for tea. I went back to the 
theater and saw her dresser. She is the woman I recom- 
mended when Pinto put her on the stage. ” 

“What sort of work is Maisie doing?” asked the satur- 
nine Crewe. 

“Male impersonations,” said the girl. “Say, she 
looks dandy in men’s clothes! She’s the best male imper- 
sonator I’ve ever seen. Why, when she talks ” 

“Never mind about that,” interrupted the colonel. 
“What did you discover?” 

“I discovered that Stafford King comes regularly to 
the theater, that he takes her to dinner, and that he 
visits the house at Horsham.’^ 

“Solly never told me that — the swine!” exclaimed 


16 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


the colonel. “He^s going to double cross us, that fellow. 
don^t believe it.” 

It was Crewe who spoke, Swell Crewe, whose boast it 
was that he had a suit for every day in the year. 

know Solomon and I’ve known him for years,” he 
said; ^‘I know him as well as you, colonel. As far as we 
are concerned, Solly is straight. I’m not denying the 
possibility that he wants to break away, but that’s only 
natural. He’s a man with a daughter, and he’s made 
his pile, but I’ll stake my life that he’ll never double 
cross us.” 

“Double cross us?” The colonel had recovered his 
wonted equanimity. “What has he to double cross?” 
he demanded almost jovially. “We have a straight- 
forward business! I am not aware that any of us are 
guilty of dishonest actions. Double cross! Bah!” 

He brought his big hand down with a thump on the 
table, and they knew from experience that this was the 
gavel of the chairman that ended all discussions. 

“Now, gentlemen,” said the colonel, “let us get to 
business. Ask Hanson to come in — he’s got the figures. 
It is the last lot of figures of ours that he’ll ever handle, ” 
he added. 

Somebody went to the door of the anteroom and called 
the secretary, but there was no reply. 

“He’s gone out.” 

“Gone out?” said the colonel, and bent his brows. 
“Who told him to go out? Nevermind; he’ll be back in 
a minute. Shut the door.” 

He lifted a deed box from the floor at his feet, placed 
it on the table, opened it with a key attached to his watch 
chain, and removed a bundle of documents. 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT — HIS CARD 


17 


We’re going to settle the Spillsbury business tonight, ” 
he said. ‘‘It looks as though Spillsbury might squeal.” 

“Where is he?” asked Pinto. 

“In an inebriates’ home,” said the colonel grimly. 
“ It seems there are some trustees to his father’s estate 
who are likely to question the legality of the transfers. 
But I’ve had the best legal opinion in London, and there 
is no doubt that our position is safe. The only thing 
we’ve got to do tonight is to make absolutely sure that 
all those fool letters he wrote to Lollie have been 
destroyed. ” 

“You’ve got them,” said the girl quickly. 

“I had them,” said the colonel, “and I burned them, 
all except one, when the transfer was completed. And 
the question is, gentlemen,” he said, “shall we burn 
the last?” 

He took from the bundle before him an envelope and 
held it up. 

“I kept this in case anything unforeseen should 
happen, but if he’s in a booze home, why, he’s not going 
to be influenced by the threat of publishing a slushy 
letter to a girl. I guess his trustees are not going to be 
very muoh influenced either. On the other hand, if this 
letter were found among business documents, it would 
look pretty bad for us.” 

“Found by whom?” asked Pinto. 

“By the police,” said the colonel calmly. 

“Police?” 

The colonel nodded. 

“They’re getting after us, but you needn’t be 
alarmed,” he said. “King is working to get a case, and 
he is not above applying for a search warrant. But I’m 


18 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


not scared of the police so much.” His voice slowed 
and he spoke with greater emphasis. guess there are 
enough court cards in a Boundary pack to beat that 
combination. It’s the Jack ” 

“The Jack — ha! ha! ha!” 

It was a shrill bubble of laughter which cut into his 
speech, and the colonel leaped to his feet, his hand 
dropping to his hip pocket. The door had opened and 
closed so silently that none had heard it. 

A figure stood confronting them. It was clad from 
head to foot in a long coat of black silk which shimmered 
in the half light of the electrolier. The hands were gloved, 
the head covered with a soft slouch hat, and the face 
hidden behind a white silk handkerchief. 

The colonel’s hand was in his hip pocket when he 
thought better and raised both hands in the air. There 
was something peculiarly businesslike in the long- 
barreled revolver which the intruder held, in spite of the 
silver plating and the gold inlay along the chased 
barrel. 

“Everybody’s hands in the air,” said the Jack shrilly, 
“right up to the beautiful sky! Yours too, Lollie. Stand 
away from the table, everybody, and back to that wall. 
For the Jack o’ Judgment is among you and life is full 
of amazing possibilities!” 

They backed from the table, peering helplessly at the 
two unwinking eyes which showed through the holes in 
the handkerchief. 

“Back to the wall, my pretties,” chuckled the Thing. 
“I’m going to make you laugh, and you’ll want some 
support. I’m going to make you rock with joy and 
merriment!” 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT — HIS CARD 19 


The figure had moved to the table, and all the time it 
spoke its nimble fingers were turning over the piles of 
documents which the colonel had disgorged from the box. 

^‘I’m going to tell you a comical tale about a gang of 
blackmailers. ” 

“You’re a liar,” said the colonel hoarsely. 

“About a gang of blackmailers,” said the Jack with 
a shrill peal of laughter; “fellows who didn’t work like 
common blackmailers, nor demand money. Oh, no, not 
naughty blackmailers! They got the fools and the 
vicious in their power and made them sell things for 
hundreds of pounds that were worth thousands. And 
they were such a wonderful crowd! They were such 
wonderfully amusing fellows. There was Dan Boundary, 
who started life by robbing bis dead mother; there was 
Crook Crewe, who was once a gentleman and is now a 
thief. ” 

“Damn you!” said Crewe, lurching forward; but the 
gun swung round on him and he stopped. 

“There was Lollie, who would sell her own ” 

He stopped. The envelope that his fingers had been 
seeking was found. He slipped it beneath the black silk 
cloak, and in two bounds was at the door. 

“Send for the police,” he mocked. “Send for the 
police, Dan! Get Stafford King, the eminent chief; tell 
him I called! My card!” 

With a dextrous flip of his fingers he sent a little 
pasteboard planing across the room. In an instant the 
door opened and closed upon the intruder and he was 
gone. 

For a second there was silence, and then, with a little 
sob, Lollie Marsh collapsed in a heap on the floor. 


20 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Colonel Dan Boundary looked from one white face to 
the other. 

“There^s a hundred thousand pounds for any one of 
you who gets that fellow, he said, breathing hard. 


CHAPTER III 


THE DECOY 

Colonel Boundary, sitting at his desk the morning 
after, pushed a bell. It was answered by the thickset 
Olaf. He was dressed as usual in black from head to foot, 
and the colonel eyed him thoughtfully. 

''Hanson,” he said, "has Miss Marsh come?” 

"Yes, she has come,” said the other resentfully. 

"Tell her I want her,” said the colonel, and then as 
the man was leaving the room: "Where did you go last 
night when I wanted you?” 

‘1 was out,” said the man shortly. "I get some time 
for myself, I suppose?” 

The colonel nodded slowly. 

“Sure you do, Hanson.” 

His tone was mild, and that spelled danger to Hanson 
had he known it. This was the third sign of rebellion 
which the man had shown in the past week. 

"WhaPs happened to your temper this morning, 
Hanson?” he asked. 

"Everything,” exploded the man, and in his agitation 
his foreign origin was betrayed by his accent. "You tell 
me I shall haf plenty money, thousands of pounds! You 
say I go to my brother in America. Where is dot money? 
I go in March, I go in May, I go in July; still I am here!” 

"My good friend,” said the colonel, "you’re too 
impatient. This is not a moment I can allow you to go 
21 


22 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


away. You’re getting nervous; that’s what’s the matter 
with you. Perhaps I’ll let you have a holiday next week. ” 

^‘Nervous!” roared the man. ^‘Yes, I am. All the 
time I feel eyes on me! When I walk in the street every 
man I meet is a policeman. When I go to bed I hear 
nothing but footsteps creeping in the passage outside 
my room.” 

‘^Old Jack, eh?” said the colonel, eying him narrowly. 

Hanson shivered. 

He had seen the Jack o’ Judgment once, a figure in 
gossamer silk who had stood beside the bed in which the 
Scandinavian lay and had talked wisdom while Olaf 
quaked in a muck sweat of fear. 

The colonel did not know this. He was under the 
impression that the appearance of the previous night had 
constituted the first of this mysterious menace. So he 
nodded again. 

^‘Send Miss Marsh to me,” he said. 

Hanson would have got on his nerves if he had nerves. 
The man at any rate was becoming an intolerable 
nuisance. The colonel marked him down as one of the 
problems calling for early solution. 

The secretary had not been gone more than a few 
seconds before the door opened again and the girl came 
in. She was tall, pretty, in a doll-like way, with an aura 
of golden hair about her small head. She might have been 
more than pretty but for her eyes, which were too light 
a shade of blue to be beautiful. She was expensively 
gowned, and walked with the easy swing of one whose 
position is assured. 

''Good morning, Lollie,” said the colonel. "Did you 
§ee him again?” 


THE DECOY 


23 


She nodded. 

I got a pretty good view of him, ” she said. 

“Did he see you?^’ 

She smiled. 

“I don’t think so,” she said; “besides, what does it 
matter if he did?” 

“'Was the girl with hijm?” 

She shook her head. 

“Well,” asked the colonel after a pause, “can you 
do anything with him?” 

She pursed her lips. 

If she had expected the colonel to refer to their terri- 
fying experience of the night before, she was to be dis- 
appointed. The hard eyes of the man compelled her to 
keep to the matter under discussion. 

“He looks pretty hard,” said the girl; “he is not the 
man to fall for that heart-to-heart stuff. ” 

“What do you mean?” asked the colonel. 

“Just that,” said the girl with a shrug. “I can’t 
imagine his picking me up and taking me to dinner and 
pouring out the secrets of his young heart at the second 
bottle.” 

“Neither can I,” said the colonel thoughtfully. 
“You’re a pretty clever girl, Lollie, and I’m going to 
make it worth your while to get close to that fellow. 
He’s the one man in Scotland Yard that we want to put 
out of business. Not that we’ve anything to be afraid 
of,” he added vaguely, “but he’s just interfering with — ” 

He paused for a word. 

“ With business, ” said the girl. “ Oh, come off, colonel ! 
Just tell me how far you want me to go. ” 

“You’ve got to put him in as wrong as you can,” said 


24 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


the other decidedly. *^He must be compromised up to 
his neck.’’ 

“What about my young reputation?” asked the girl 
with a grimace. 

“If you lose it we’ll buy you another, ” said the colonel 
dryly; “and I reckon it’s about time you had another 
one, Lollie. ” 

The girl fingered her chin thoughtfully. 

It is not going to be easy, ” she said again. “ It isn’t 
going to be like young Spillsbury — Pinto Silva could 
have done that job without help — or Solomon White 
even. ” 

You can shut up about Spillsbury, ” retorted the 
colonel. “I’ve told you to forget everything that has 
ever happened in our business. And I’ve told you a 
hundred times not to mention Pinto or any of the other 
men in this business. You can do as you’re told! And 
take that look off your face!” 

He rose with extraordinary agility and leaned over, 
glowering down at the girl. 

“You’ve been getting a bit too fresh lately, Lollie, 
and giving yourself airs! You don’t try any of that 
grand-lady stuff with me; d’ye hear?” 

There was nothing suave in the colonel’s manner now, 
nothing slow or ponderous or courtly. He spoke rapidly 
and harshly, and revealed the brute that many suspected 
but few knew. ’ 

“I’ve no more respect for women than I have for men, 
understand! If you ever get gay with me. I’ll take your 
neck in my hand like that.” He clenched his two fists 
together with a horribly suggestive motion, and the 
frightened girl watched him, fascinated. “I’ll break you 


THE DECOY 


25 


as if you were a bit of china! I’ll tear you as if you were 
a rag! You needn t think you’ll ever get away from 
me — I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. You’re 
paid like a queen and treated like a queen, and you play 
straight. There was a man called Snow Gregory once!” 

The trembling girl was on her feet now, her face ashen 
white. 

“I’m sorry, colonel,” she faltered; “I didn’t intend 
giving you offense. I — I ” 

She was on the verge of tears when the colonel, with a 
quick gesture, motioned her back to the chair. His rage 
subsided as suddenly as it had risen. 

“Now do as you’re told, Lollie,” he said calmly. 
“Get after that young fellow, and don’t come back to 
me until you’ve got him.” 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and almost 
tiptoed from his dread presence. 

At the door he stopped her. 

“As to Maisie,” he said, “why, you can leave Maisie 
to me.” 


CHAPTER IV 


MISSING 

Colonel Dan Boundary descended slowly from the 
taxicab which had brought him up from Horsham 
station, and surveyed without emotion the domicile of 
his partner. It was Colonel Boundary's boast that he 
was in the act of lathering his face on the tenth floor of a 
California hotel when the earthquake began, and that 
he finished his shaving operations, took his bath and 
dressed himself before the earth had ceased to tremble. 

'‘I shall want you again, so you had better wait,'’ 
he said to the driver, and passed through the wooden 
gates toward Rose Lodge. 

He stopped halfway up the path, having now a better 
view of the house. It was a red brick villa, the home of 
a well-to-do man. The trim lawn with its border of rose 
trees, the little fountain playing over the rockery, the 
quality of the garden furniture within view, and the 
general air of comfort which pervaded the place suggested 
the home of a prosperous business man, one of those 
happy creatures who have never troubled to get them- 
selves in line for millions, but have lived happily between 
the four and five figure mark. 

Colonel Boundary grunted and continued his walk. 
A trim maid opened the door to him, and by her blank 
look it was evident that he was not a frequent visitor. 

''Boundary — just say Boundary," said the colonel 
26 


MISSING 


27 


in a deep voice, which carried to the remotest part of the 
house. 

He was shown to the drawing-room, and again found 
much that interested him. He felt no twinge of pity at 
the thought that Solomon White would very soon 
exchange this almost luxury for the bleak discomfort 
of a prison cell, and not even the sight of the girl who 
came through the door to greet him brought him a qualm. 

You want to see my father, colonel?’’ she asked. 

Her tone was cold but polite. The colonel had never 
been a great favorite of Maisie White’s, and now it 
required a considerable effort on her part to hide her deep 
aversion. 

“Do I want to see your father?” said Colonel Boundary. 
^‘Why, yes, I think I do, and I want to see you, too, and 
I’d just as soon see you first, before I speak to Solly.” 

She sat down, a model of patient politeness, her hands 
folded on her lap. In the light of day she was pretty, 
straight of back, graceful as to figure, and the clear gray 
eyes which met his faded blue ones were very under- 
standing. 

^‘Miss White,” he said, ^^we have been very good to 
you.” 

‘‘We?’^ repeated the girl. 

“We.” The colonel nodded. “I speak for myself and 
my business associates. If Solomon had ever told you 
the truth you would know that you owe all your educa- 
tion, your beautiful home” — he waved his hand --“to 
myself and my business associates.” His tongue rolled 
round the last two words. They were favorites of his. 

She nodded her head slightly. 

“I was under the impression that I owed it to my 


28 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


father, she said with a hint of irony in her voice, ^^for I 
suppose that he earned all he has. 

You suppose that he earned all that he has? ” repeated 
the colonel. '‘Well, very likely you are right. He has 
earned more than he has got, but pay day is near at 
hand. ” 


There was no mistaking the menace in his tone, but 
the girl made no comment. She knew that there had 
been trouble. She knew that her father had for days 
been locked in his study and had scarcely spoken a word 
to anybody. 

I saw you the other night, said the colonel, changing 
the direction of his attack; "I saw you at the Orpheum. 
Pinto Silva came with me. We were in the stage box. 
"I saw you, said the girl quietly. 

"A very good performance, considering you’re a kid,” 
said Boundary. "In fact, Pinto says you’re the best 
mimic he has ever seen on the stage.” He paused. 
"Pinto got you your contracts.” 

She nodded. 

am very grateful to Mr. Silva,” she said. 

You have all the world before you, my girl,” said 
Boundary m his slow ponderous way, "a beautiful and 
bright future plenty of money, pearls, diamonds” — 
he waved his hand with a vague gesture — "and Pinto, 
who is the most valuable of my business associates, is 
very fond of you. ” 

The girl sighed helplessly. 

I thought that matter had been finished and done 
with, colonel,” she said. "I don’t know how people in 
your world would regard such an offer, but in my world 
they would look upon it as an insult.” 


MISSING 


29 


'^And what the devil is your world? asked the colonel 
without any sign of irritation. 

She rose to her feet. 

^‘The clean, decent world, she said calmly, *Hhe law- 
abiding world, the world that regards such arrangements 
as you suggest as infamous. It is not only the fact that 

Mr. Silva is already married 

The colonel raised his hand. 

‘‘Pinto talks very seriously of getting a divorce,” 
he said solemnly, “and when a gentleman like Pinto 
Silva gives his word, that ought to be sufficient for any 
girl. And now you have come to mention law-abiding 
worlds,” he went on slowly, “I would like to speak of 
one of the law-abiders. ” 

She knew what was coming and was silent. 

“There^s a young gentleman named Stafford King 
hanging round you.” He saw her face flush but went 
on: “Mr. Stafford King is a policeman. ” 

“He is an official of the criminal intelligence depart- 
ment,” said the girl; “but I donT think you would call 
him a policeman, would you, colonel?” 

“All policemen are policemen to me,” said Boundary, 
“and Mr. Stafford King is one of the worst of the police- 
men from my point of view, because he’s trying to trump 
up a cock-and-bull story about me and get me into very 
serious trouble.” 

“I know Mr. King is connected with a great number 
of unpleasant cases, ” said the girl coolly; “it would be a 
coincidence if he was in a case which interested you. ” 
“It would be a coincidence, would it?” said the colonel, 
nodding his huge head. “Perhaps it is a coincidence that 
my clerk, Hanson, has disappeared and has been seen 


30 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


in the company of your friend, eh? It is a coincidence 
that King is working on the Spillsbury case — the one 
case that Solly knows nothing about — eh? ” 

She faced him, puzzled and apprehensive 
Where does all this lead?” she asked. 

*‘It leads to trouble for Solly, that’s all,” said the 
colonel. ^‘He’s trying to put me away and put his busi- 
ness associates away, and he has got to go through the 

mill unless ” 

Unless what?” she asked. 

Pinto’s a merciful man; I’m a merciful man. We 
don’t want to make trouble with former business asso- 
ciates, but trouble there is going to be, believe me. ” 
'‘What kind of trouble?” asked the girl. “If you 
mean that your so-called business association with my 
father will cease, 1 shall be happier. My father can earn 
his living, and I have my stage work. ” 

“You have your stage work”— the colonel did not 
smile but his tone betrayed his amusement — “and your 
father can earn his living, eh? He can earn his living in 
Portland jail,” he said, raising his voice. 

“For the matter of that, so can you, colonel.” 

The colonel turned his head slowly and surveyed the 
spare figure in the doorway. 

"Oh, you heard me, did you, Solly?” he said not 
unpleasantly. 

“I heard you,” said Solomon White, his lean face a 
shade whiter than the girl had seen it, and his breathing 
was a little labored. 

If you are thinking of sending me to prison,” said 
White, “why, I think we shall make up a pretty jolly 
party. ” 


MISSING 


31 


^ Meaning me?^^ said the colonel, raising his eyebrows. 

“You among others. Pinto Silva, Swell Crewe and 
Selby, to name a few.^^ 

Colonel Boundary permitted himself to chuckle. 

“On what charge?’^ he asked. ^^Tell me that, Solly. 
The cleverest men in Scotland Yard have been laying for 
me for years and they haven’t got away with it. May be 
they have your assistance and that dog Hanson’s.” 

“That’s a lie,” interrupted White, '‘so far as I am 
concerned. I know nothing about Hanson. ” 

“Hanson,” said the colonel slowly, “is a thief. He 
ran off with three hundred pounds of mine, as I’ve 
reported to the police. ” 

‘I see,” said White with a little smile of contempt. 

Got your charge in first, eh, colonel? Discredit the 
witness. And what have you framed for me? ” 

“Nothing,” said the colonel, “except this. I’ve just 
had from the bank a check for four thousand pounds 
drawn in your favor on our joint account and purporting 
to be signed by Silva and myself. ” 

“As it happens,” said White, “it was signed by you 
fellows in my presence.” 

The colonel shook his head. 

“Obdurate to the last, brazening it out to the end. 
Why not make a frank confession to an old business 
associate, Solly? I came here to see you about that 
check. ” 

That’s the game, is it?” said White. “You are going 
to charge me with forgery. And suppose I talk?” 

“Talk?” asked the colonel innocently. '‘It by ‘talk’ 
you mean make a statement to the police derogatory to 
myself and my business associates, what can you tell? 


32 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


I can bring a dozen witnesses to prove that both Pinto 
and I were in Brighton the morning that check was 
signed. 

‘'You came up by car at night/' said White harshly; 

we arranged to meet outside Guilford to divide the 
loot, r 

“Loot?" said Colonel Boundary, puzzled. “I don't 
understand you. " 

1 11 put it plainer, " said White, his eyes like smoulder- 
ing fire. “A year ago you got young Balston, the ship 
owner, to put fifty thousand pounds into a fake com- 
pany. " 

He heard Maisie gasp but went on. 

How you did it I'm not going to tell before the girl, 
but it was blackmail which you and Pinto engineered. 
He paid his last installment; the four thousand pounds 
was my share." 

Colonel Boundary rose and looked at his watch. 

“I have a taxicab waiting and, with a taxicab, time 
IS money. If you are going to bring in the name of an 
innocent young man, who will certainly deny that he 
had any connection with myself and my business asso- 
ciates, that is a matter for your own conscience. I tell 
you I know nothing about this check. I have made your 
daughter an offer." 

“I can guess what it is," interrupted White; “and I 
can tell you this, Boundary, that if you are going to 
‘frame' me, I'll be even with you, if I wait twenty years! 
If you imagine I am going to let my daughter into that 
filthy gang''— his voice broke and it was some time 
before he could recover himself —“do your worst. But 
I'll get you, Boundary! I don't doubt that you'll convict 


MISSING 


33 


me. You know the things that I can^t talk about, and 
ril have to take my medicine, but you are not going to 
escape. 

“Wait, colonel. It was the girl who spoke, in so low 
a voice that he would not have heard her if he had not 
been expecting her to speak. “Do you mean that you 
will — prosecute my father? 

“With law-abiding people,^’ said the colonel pro- 
foundly, “the demands of justice come first. I must do 
my duty to the state, but if- you should change your 
mind ” 

“She won^t change her mind,” retorted White. 

With one stride he had passed between the colonel 
and the door. Only for a second he stood, and then he 
feu back. 

“Do your worst,” he said huskily, and Colonel 
Boundary passed out, pocketing the revolver which had 
come from nowhere into his hand. Presently they heard 
the purr of the departing motor. 

He went to Horsham station in a thoughtful frame of 
mind. He was stiU thinking profoundly when he reached 
Victoria station. 

Then, as he stepped on the platform, a hand was laid 
on his arm and he turned to meet the smiling face of 
Stafford King. 

“Hello,” said the colonel, and something within him 
went cold. 

“Sorry to break in on your reverie, colonel,” said 
Stafford King, “but Pve a warrant for your arrest.” 

“What is the charge?” asked the colonel, his face gray. 

“Blackmail and conspiracy,” said King, and saw 
with amazement the look of relief in the other’s eyes. 


34 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


‘‘Boundary/^ he added between his teeth, ‘^you thought 
I wanted you for Snow Gregory 
The colonel said nothing. 


CHAPTER V 


IN THE magistrate’s COURT 

Never before m history had the dingy little street, in 
i which North Lambeth police court stands, witnessed 
such scenes as were presented on that memorable fourth 
I of December, when counsel for the crown opened the 
i case against Colonel Dan Boundary. 

Long before the building was opened the precincts 
i of the court were besieged by people anxious to secure 
1 one of the very few seats which were available for the 
I public. By nine o’clock it became necessary to summon 
a special force of police to clear a way for the numerous 
motor cars which came bowling from every point of the 
compass, and which were afterward parked in the narrow 
' side streets, to the intense amazement and interest of the 
' curious denizens of the unsavory neighborhood in which 
the court is located. 

Admission was by ticket. Even the reporters, those 
favored servants of democracy, had to produce a printed 
pass before the scrutinizing policeman at the door allowed 
them to enter. Every available seat had been allotted. 
Even the magistrate’s sacristy had been invaded, and 
chairs stood three deep to left and right of him. 

There were some who came out of sheer morbid 
curiosity, in order that they might boast that they were 
present when this remarkable case was heard. There 
: were others who came, inwardly quaking at the revela- 

35 


36 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


tions which were promised or hinted at in the daily press, 
for the influence which the Boundary gang exercised 
was wide and far-reaching. 

A young man stood upon the congested pavement, 
watching with evident impatience the arrival of belated 
cars. The magistrate had already come and had dis- 
appeared behind the slate-colored gates which led to the 
courtyard. Stafford saw fashionably dressed women 
and worried-looking men who were figures in the political 
and social world, and presently he involuntarily stepped 
forward into the roadway, as though to meet the electric 
limousine which came noiselessly to the main entrance. 

The solitary occupant of the car was a man of sixty — 
a gray-haired gentleman of medium height, dressed with 
scrupulous care, and wearing on his clean-shaven face a 
perpetual smile, as though life were an amusement which 
never palled. 

Stafford King took the extended hand with a little 
twinkle in his eye. 

''I was afraid we shouldn't be able to keep your place 
for you, Sir Stanley, " he said. 

Sir Stanley Belcom, first commissioner of criminal 
intelligence, accentuated his smile. 

“Well, Stafford,” he drawled, “IVe come to see the 
culminating triumph of your official career. ” 

Stafford King made a little grimace. 

“I hope so,” he said dryly. 

“I hope so, too,” said the baronet; “yet-— Til tell 
you frankly, Stafford, I have a feeling that the ordinary 
processes of the law are inadequate to trap this 
organization. The law has too wide a mesh to deal with 
the terror which this man exercises. Such men are the 


IN THE MAGISTRATE'S COURT 


37 


I only justification of lynch law, the quick, sharp justice 
which is administered without subtlety and without 
quibble. 

Stafford looked at the other and made no attempt to 
hide his astonishment. 

“You believe in — the Jack o^ Judgment?” he asked. 

Sir Stanley shot a swift glance at him. 

“That is the bugbear of the gang, isn't it?” 

“So Hanson says,” replied the other. “I verily 
I believe that Hanson is more afraid of that mysterious 
I person than he is of Boundary himself.” 

I The attorney general had begun his opening speech 
I when the two men made their way into the crowded 
! court and found their seats at the end of the lawyer's 
j table. 

1 In the dock sat Colonel Boundary, the least concerned 
I of all that assembly. The colonel was leaning forward, 
i his arms resting on the rails, his chin on the back of his 
i hairy hand, his eyes glued upon the gray-haired lawyer 
; who was dispassionately opening the case. 

^ “ The contention of the crown, ” the attorney general 

S was saying, “is that Colonel Boundary is at the head of a 
i huge blackmailing organization and that in the course 
! of the past twenty years, by such means as I shall suggest, 

I and as the principal witness for the crown will tell you, 

I he has built up his criminal practice until he now controls 
j the most complex and the most iniquitous organization 
j that has been known in the long and sordid history of 
I crime. 

j “Your worship will doubtless hear,” he went on, “of 
i a bizarre and fantastic figure which fiits through the 
I pages of this story, a mysterious somebody who is called 


38 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


^The JackJ But I shall ask your worship, as I shall ask 
the jury, when this case reaches, as it must reach ulti- 
mately, the central criminal court, to disregard this | 
apparition, which displayed no part in bringing Boundary 
to justice. 

“The contention of the crown is, as I say, that 
Boundary, by means of terrorization and blackmail, 
through the medium and assistance of his creatures, 
has from time to time secured a hold over rich and foolish 
men and women, and from these has acquired the enor- 
mous wealth which is now his and his associates’. As 
to these latter, their prosecution depends very largely 
upon the fate of Boundary. There are, I believe, some 
of them in court at this moment, and though they are 
not arrested, it will be no news to them to learn that they 
are under police observation.” 

Swell Crewe, sitting at the back of the court, shifted 
uneasily, and, turning his head, he met the careless gaze 
of the tall, military-looking man who had “detective” 
written all over him. 

There had been a pause in the attorney general’s 
speech while he examined short-sightedly the notes 
before him. 

“In the presentation of this case, your worship,” he 
went on, “the crown is in somewhat of a dilemma. We 
have secured one important and, I think, convincing 
witness — a man who has been closely associated with 
the prisoner, a Scandinavian named Hanson, who, con- 
sidering himself badly treated by this gang, has been for 
a long time secretly getting together evidence of an 
incriminating character. As to his object we need not 
inquire. There is a possibility suggested by my learned 


IN THE MAGISTRATE’S COURT 


39 


friend, the counsel for the defense, that Hanson intended 
blackmailing the blackmailers and presenting such a 
weight of evidence against Boundary that he could do 
no less than pay handsomely for his confederate’s silence. 
, That is as may be. The main fact is that Hanson has 
accumulated this documentary evidence, and that that 
documentary evidence is in existence in certain secret 
hiding places in this country, which will be revealed in 
the course of his examination. 

‘‘We are at this disadvantage, that Hanson has not 
j: yet made anything but the most scanty of statements, 
i Fearing for his life, since this gang will stop at nothing, 

I he has been closely guarded by the police from the 
S moment he made his preliminary statement. Every 
! effort which has been made to induce him to commit his 
1 revelations to writing has been in vain, and we are 
jl compelled to take what is practically his affidavit in 
open court. ” 

“Do I understand,” interrupted the magistrate in 
' that weary tone which is the prerogative of magistrates, 
“ that you are not as yet in possession of the evidence on 
which I am to be asked to commit the prisoner to the 
Old Bailey?” 

“That is so, your worship,” said the counsel; “all 
we could procure from Hanson was the affidavit which 
was necessary to secure the man’s arrest.” 

“So that if anything happened to your witness, there 
: would be no case for the crown?” 

The attorney general nodded. 

“Those are exactly the circumstances, your worship,” 

■ he said, “and that is why we have been careful to keep 
our witness in security. The man is in a highly nervous 


40 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


condition, and we have been obliged to humor him. But 
I do not think your worship need have any apprehension 
as to the evidence which will be produced today, or that 
there will not be sufficient to justify a committal/^ 

‘‘I see,” said the magistrate. 

Sir Stanley turned to Stafford and whispered: 

^‘Rather a queer proceeding.” 

Stafford nodded. 

‘^It is the only thing we could do,” he said. Hanson 
refused to speak until he was in court — until, as he said, 
he saw Boundary under arrest.” 

^‘Does Boundary know this?” 

suppose so,” replied Stafford with a little smile; 
^‘he knows everything. He has a whole army of spies. 
Sir Stanley, you don’t know how big this organization is. 
He has roped in everybody. He has members of Parlia- 
ment, he has the best lawyers in London, and two of the 
big detective agencies are engaged exclusively on his 
work. ” 

Sir Stanley pursed his lips thoughtfully and turned his 
attention to the prosecuting counsel. The address was 
not a long one, and presently the attorney sat down, to be 
followed by a leading member of the bar who had been 
retained for the defense. Presently he, too, had finished, 
and again the attorney general rose. 

‘^Call Olaf Hanson,” he said, and there was a stir of 
excitement. 

The door leading to the cells opened and two tall 
detectives came through, and two others followed. In 
the midst of the four walked the short, gray-faced man 
in whose hands was the fate and, indeed, the life of 
Colonel Dan Boundary. 


IN THE MAGISTRATE’S COURT 


41 


He did not so much as glance at the dock, but hurried 
across the floor of the court and was ushered to the wit- 
ness stand, his four guardians disposing themselves 
behind and before him. The man seemed on the point of 
fainting. His fearful eyes ranged ' the court, always 
avoiding the gross flgure in the railed dock. The lips of 
the witness were white and trembling. The hands, which 
clutched the front of the box for support, twitched spas- 
modically. 

“Your name is Olaf Hanson?” asked the attorney 
soothingly. 

The witness tried to speak, but his lips emitted no 
sound. He nodded. 

“You are a native of Denmark?” 

Again Hanson nodded. 

“You must speak,” said the attorney kindly, “and 
you need have no fear. How long have you known 
Colonel Boundary?” 

This time Hanson found his voice. 

“For ten years,” he said huskily. 

An usher came forward from the press at the back of 
the court with a glass of water and handed it to the 
witness, who drank eagerly. The attorney waited 
until he had drained the glass before he spoke 
again. 

“You have in your possession certain documentary 
evidence convicting Colonel Boundary of illegal acts?” 

“Yes,” said the witness. 

“You have promised the police that you will reveal in 
court where those documents have been stored?” 

“Yes,” said Hanson again. 

“Will you tell the court now, in order that the police 


42 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


may lose as little time as possible, where you have hidden 
that evidence?’^ 

Colonel Boundary was showing the first signs oi 
interest he had evinced in the proceedings. He leaned 
forward, his head craned round as though endeavoring 
to catch the eye of the witness. 

Hanson was speaking, and speaking with difficulty. 

“I haf — put those papers ” He stopped and 

swayed. haf put those papers ” he began again, 

and then, without a second’s warning, he fell limply 
forward. 

'H am afraid he has fainted,” said the magistrate. 

Detectives were crowding round the witness and had 
lifted him from the witness stand. One said something 
hurriedly, and Stafford King left his seat. He was 
bending over the prostrate figure, tearing open the collar 
from his throat, and presently was joined by the police 
surgeon, who was in court. There was a little whispered 
consultation, and then Stafford King straightened him- 
self up and his face was pale and hard. 

regret to inform your worship,” he said, '‘that the 
witness is dead.” 


CHAPTER VI 


STAFFORD KING RESIGNS 

A WEEK later Stafford King came to the office of the 
first commissioner of the criminal intelligence depart- 
ment, and Sir Stanley looked up with a kindly but pitying 
look in his eye. 

''Well, Stafford,'' he said gently, "sit down, won't 
you? What has happened?" 

Stafford King shrugged his shoulders. 

"Boundary is discharged," he said shortly. 

Sir Stanley nodded. 

"It was inevitable," he said. "I suppose there's no 
hope of connecting him and his gang with the death of 
Hanson? " 

"Not a ghost of a hope, I am afraid," said Stafford, 
shaking his head. "Hanson was undoubtedly murdered, 
and the poison which killed him was in the glass of water 
which the usher brought. I've been examining the usher 
again today, and all he can remember is that he saw 
somebody pushing through the crowd at the back 
of the court, who handed the glass over the heads of the 
people. Nobody seems to have seen the man who passed 
it. That was the method by which the gang got rid of 
their traitor. " 

'‘Clever," said Sir Stanley, putting his finger tips 
together. "They knew just the condition of mind in 
which Hanson would be when he came into court. They 
4a 


44 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


had the dope ready, and they knew that the detectives 
would allow the usher to bring the man water, when they 
would not allow anybody else to approach him. This 
is a pretty bad business, Stafford. 

realize that,” said the young chief. “Of course 
I shall resign. There’s nothing else to do. I thought we 
had him this time, especially with the evidence we had 
in relation to the Spillsbury case.” 

“You mean the letter which Spillsbury wrote to the 
woman Marsh? How did that come, by the way?” 

“It reached Scotland Yard by post.” 

“Do you know who sent it?” 

“There was no covering note at all,” replied Stafford; 
“it was in a plain envelope with a typewritten address, 
and was sent to me personally. The letter, of course, 
was valueless by itself.” 

“Have you made any search to discover the documents 
which Hanson spoke about?” 

“We have searched everywhere, ” said the other a little 
wearily, “but it is a pretty hopeless business looking 
through London for a handful of documents. Anyway, 
Boundary is free.” 

The other was watching him closely. 

“It is a bitter disappointment to you, my young 
friend,” he said; “you’ve been working on the case for , 
years. I fear you’ll never have another chance of putting 
Boundary in the dock. He’s got a lot of public sympathy, 
too. Your thorough rascal who manages to escape from 
the hands of the police has always a large following 
among the public, and I doubt whether the home 
secretary will sanction any further proceedings unless 
we have the most convincing proof. What’s this? ” 


STAFFORD KING RESIGNS 


45 


Stafford had laid a letter on the table. 

resignation/’ said that young man grimly. 

The first commissioner took up the envelope and tore 
it in four pieces. 

'‘It is not accepted/’ he said cheerfully. "You did 
your best, and you’re no more responsible than I am. 
If you resign I ought to resign, and so ought every officer 
who has been on this game. A few years ago I took 
exactly the same step — offered my resignation over a 
purely private and personal matter, and it was not 
accepted. I have been glad since, and so will you be. 
Go on with your work and give Boundary a rest for a 
while. ” 

Stafford was looking down at him abstractedly. 

"Do you think that we shall ever catch the fellow, 
sir?” 

Sir Stanley smiled. 

"Frankly I don’t,” he admitted. "As I said before, 
the only danger I see to Boundary is this mysterious 
individual who apparently crops up now and again in 
his daily life, and who, I suspect, was the person who 
sent you the Spillsbury letter — the Jack o’ Judgment, 
doesn’t he call himself? Do you know what I think?” 
he asked quietly. "I think that if you found the Jack, 
if you ran him to earth, stripped him of his mystic guise 
you would discover somebody who has a greater grudge 
against Boundary than the police.” 

Stafford smiled. 

"We can’t run about after phantoms, sir,” he said, 
with a touch of asperity in his voice. 

The chief looked at him curiously. 

"I hear you do quite a lot of running about,” he said 


46 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


carelessly as he began to arrange the papers on his table, 
the way, how is Miss White? 

Stafford flushed. 

'‘She was very well when I saw her last night, ’’ he said 
stiffly. " She is leaving the stage. 

"And her father?” 

Stafford was silent for a second. 

"He left his home a week before the case came into 
court and has not been seen since,” he said. 

The chief nodded. 

"While White is away and until he turns up I should 
keep a watchful eye on his daughter, ” he said. 

"What do you mean, sir?” asked Stafford. 

"I’m just making a suggestion,” said the other: 
"think it over.” 

Stafford thought it over on his way to meet the girl, 
who was waiting for him on a sunny seat in Temple 
Gardens, for the day was fine and even warm, and, two 
hours before luncheon, the place was comparatively 
empty of people. She saw the trouble in his face and 
rose to meet him, and for a moment forgot her own 
distress of mind, her doubts and fears. Evidently she 
knew the reason for his attendance at Scotland Yard, 
and something of the interview which he had had. 

I offered my resignation, ” he replied in answer to her 
unspoken question, "and Sir Stanley refused it.” 

I think he was just,” she said. "Why, it would be 
simply monstrous if your career were spoiled through 
no fault of your own.” 

He laughed. 

"Don’t let us talk about me,” he said. "What have 
you done?” 


STAFFORD KING RESIGNS 


47 


^^Fve canceled all my contracts; I have other work to 
do.’’ 

'‘How are ” He hesitated, but she knew just 

what he meant, and patted his arm gratefully. 

“Thank you; I have all the money I want,” she said; 
“father left me quite a respectable balance. I am closing 
the house at Horsham and storing the furniture, and 
shall keep just sufficient to fill a little flat which I have 
taken in Bloomsbury.” 

“But what are you going to do?” he asked curiously. 

She shook her head. 

“Oh, there are lots of things that a girl can do,” she 
said vaguely, “besides going on the stage.” 

“ But isn’t it a sacrifice? Didn’t you love your work? ” 

She hesitated. 

“I thought I did at first,” she said. “You see, I was 
always a very good mimic. When I was only a little 
girl I could imitate the colonel. Listen!” 

Suddenly to his amazement he heard the drawling 
growl of Dan Boundary. She laughed with glee at his 
amazement, but the smile vanished and she sighed. 

“I want you to tell me one thing, Mr. King.” 

“Stafford — you promised me,” he began. 

She reddened. 

“I hardly like calling you by your Christian name, 
but it sounds so like a surname that perhaps it won’t be 
so bad.” 

“What do you want to ask?” he demanded. 

She was silent for a moment, then she said : 

“How far was my father implicated in this terrible 

business?” 

“In the gang?” 


48 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


She nodded. 

He was in a dilemma. Solomon White was implicated 
as deeply as any save the colonel. In his younger days 
he had been the genius who was responsible for the 
organization, and had been for years the coloneFs right- 
hand man until the more subtle villainy of Pinto Silva, 
that Portuguese adventurer, had ousted him, and, if the 
truth be told, until the sight of his girl growing to. 
womanhood had brought qualms to the heart of this 
man, who, whatever were his faults, loved the girl dearly. 

^'You don’t answer me,” she said, ''but I think I am 
answered by your silence. Was my father — a bad 
man?” 

"I would not judge your father,” he said. "I can tell 
you this, that for the past few years he has played a very 
small part in the affairs of the gang. But what are you 
going to do?” 

"How persistent you are!” She laughed. "Why, 
there are so many things I am going to do that I haven’t 
time to tell you. For one thing, I am going to work to 
undo some of the mischief which the ^ang has wrought. 

I am going to make such reparation,” she said, her lips 
trembling, "for the evil deeds which I fear my father 
has committed.” 

"You have a mission, eh?” he said with a little smile. 

"Don’t laugh at me,” she pleaded; "I feel it here.” 
She put her hand on her heart. "There’s something 
which tells me that, even if my father built up this gang, 
as you told me once he did — ah! you had forgotten 
that.” 

Stafford King had, indeed, forgotten the statement. 

"Yes,” he said. "You intend to pull it down?” 


STAFFORD KING RESIGNS 


49 


i She nodded. 

“I feel, too, that I am at bay. I am the daughter of 
Solomon White, and Solomon White is regarded by the 
colonel as a traitor. Do you think they will let me alone? 
Don’t you think they are going to watch me day and 
. night, and get me in their power just as soon as they can? 

' Think of the lever that would be, the lever to force my 
, father back to them.” 

! “Oh, you’ll be watched all right,” he said easily, and 
i remembered the commissioner’s warning; “in fact, 
i you’re being watched now. Do you mind?” 

'I “Now?” she asked in surprise. 

! He nodded toward a lady who sat a dozen yards away 
I and whose face was carefully shaded by a parasol. 

' “Who is she?” asked the girl curiously. 

' “A young person called LoUie Marsh.” Stafford 
I laughed. “At present she has a mission, too, which is to 
i entangle me into a compromising situation. ” 

The girl looked toward the spy with a new interest 
I and a new resentment. 

’ “She has been trailing me for weeks,” he went on, 

I “and it would be embarrassing to tell you the number 
of times we have been literally thrown into one another’s 
arms. Poor girl, ” he said with mock concern, “she must 
; be bored with sitting there so long! Let us take a stroll. ” 
If he expected Lollie to follow, he was to be dis- 
appointed. She stayed on, watching the disappearing 
figures, without attempting to rise. Waiting until they 
i were out of sight she walked out on to the embankment 
, and hailed a passing taxi. She seemed quite satisfied in 
1 her mind that the plan she had evolved for the trapping 
of Stafford King could not fail to succeed. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE COLONEL CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS 

A MEKRY little dinner party was assembled that night 
in a luxurious apartment in Albermarle House. It was a 
bachelor party and consisted of three — the colonel, 
resplendent in evening dress, Swell Crewe and a middle- 
aged man whose antique dress coat and none too spotless , 
linen certainly did not advertise their owner’s prosperity. 
Yet this man with the stubby mustache and t\ie bald 
head could write his check for seven figures, being Mr. 
Thomas Crotin, of the firm of Crotin & Principle, whose 
woolen mills occupy a respectable acreage in Huddersfield 
and Dewsbury. 

“You’re Colonel Boundary, are you?” he said admir- 
ingly, and for about the seventh time since the meal 
started. 

The colonel nodded with a good-humored twinkle in 
his eye. 

“Well, fancy that!” said Mr. Crotin. “I’ll have some- 
thing to talk about when I go back to Yorkshire! It is 
lucky I met your friend, Captain Crewe, at our club in 
Huddersfield. ” 

There was something more than luck in that meeting, ' 
as the colonel knew. 

“I read about the trial and all,” said the Yorkshire- : 
man. “I must say it looked very black against you, 
colonel. ” 


60 


THE COLONEL CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS 51 


The colonel smiled again and lifted a bottle toward 
the other. 

‘^No, no!’^ said the spinner. have no more. 

I know when IVe had enough.^’ 

The colonel replaced the bottle by his side. 

“So you read of the trial, did you?” 

“I did,” said the other; “and I said to my missus: 
'Yon’s a clever fellow. I’d like to meet him.’ ” 

“You have an admiration for the criminal classes, 
eh?” said the colonel good-humoredly. 

“Well, I’m not saying you’re a criminal,” said the 
other, taking his host literally, “but I take an interest 
in these cases. You never know what you can learn. ” 

“And what did your lady wife say?” asked Boundary. 

The Yorkshireman smiled broadly. 

“Well, she doesn’t take any interest in these things 
She’s a real London lady, my wife. She was in a high 
position when I married.” 

“Five years ago,” said Boundary, “you married the 
daughter of Lord West Severn. It cost you a hundred 
thousand pounds to pay the old man’s debts. ” 

The Yorkshireman stared at him. 

“How did you know that?” he asked. 

“You’re nominated for Parliament, too, aren’t you? 
And you’re to be mayor of Little Thornhill?” 

Mr. Crotin laughed uproariously. 

“Well, you’ve got me properly placed,” he said 
admiringly; and the colonel agreed with a gesture. 

“So you’re interested in the criminal classes?” 

Mr. Crotin waved a hand protestingly. 

“I’m not saying you’re a member of the criminal classes, 
colonel, ” he said. “My friend Crewe here wouldn’t think 


52 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


I would be so rude. Of course I know the charge was all 
wrong. ” 

^‘That’s where you’re mistaken,” interrupted the 
colonel calmly; ‘‘it was all right.” 

“Eh?” 

The man stared. 

“The charge was perfectly sound,” said the colonel, 
playing with his fruit knife. “For twenty years I have 
been making money by buying businesses at about a 
twentieth of their value and selling them again.” 

“But how — ” began the other. 

“Wait; I’ll tell you. I’ve got men working for me all 
over the country, agents and sub-agents who are con- 
stantly on the lookout for scandal. Housekeepers, ser- 
vants, valets — you know the sort of people who get 
hold of information.” 

Mr. Crotin was speechless. 

“Sooner or later I find a very incriminating fact which 
concerns a gentleman of property. I prefer those scandals 
which verge on the criminal, ” the colonel went on. 

The outraged Mr. Crotin was rolling his serviette. 

“Where are you going? What are you going to do? 
The night’s young, ” said the colonel innocently. 

“I’m going,” said Mr. Crotin, very red of face. “A 
joke’s a joke, and when friend Crewe introduced me to 
you, I hadn’t any idea that you were that kind of man. 
You don’t suppose that I’m going to sit in your society — 
me with my high connections — after what you’ve 
said?” 

“Why not?” asked the colonel. “After all, business is 
business, and as I’m making an offer to you for the 
Riverborne Mill ” 


THE COLONEL CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS 53 


^^The Riverborne interrupted the spinner. 

^‘Ah, that’s a joke of yours! You’ll buy no Riverborne 
Mill from me!” 

^‘On the contrary, I shall buy the Riverborne Mill 
from you. In fact, I have all the papers and transfers 
ready for you to sign.” 

^‘Oh, you have, have you?” said the man grimly. 
“And what might you be offering me for the River- 
borne?” 

“I’m offering you thirty thousand pounds cash,” said 
the colonel, and his hearer was stricken speechless. 

“Thirty thousand pounds cash!” he said after a while. 
“Why, man, that property is worth two hundred thou- 
sand pounds.” 

“I thought it was worth a little more, ” said the colonel 
carelessly. 

“You’re a fool or a madman,” said the angry York- 
shireman. “It isn’t my mill, it is a. limited company.” 

“But you hold the majority of the shares — ninety- 
five per cent, I think,” said the colonel. “Those are the 
shares which you will transfer to me at the price I 
suggest. ” 

“I’ll see you dead first,” declared Crotin, bringing his 
hand down smash on the table. 

“Sit down again for one moment.” The colonel’s 
voice was gentle but insistent. “Do you know Maggie 
Delman?” 

Suddenly Crotin’s face went white. 

“She was one of your father’s mill girls when you were 
little more than a boy,” the colonel proceeded, “and you 
were rather in love with her, and one Easter you went 
away together to Blackpool. Do you remember? ” 


54 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Still Crotin did not speak. 

“You married the young lady and the marriage was 
kept secret because you were afraid of your father, and 
as the years weait on and the girl was content with the 
little home you had made for her and the allowance you 
gave her, there seemed to be no need to admit your 
marriage, especially as there were no children. Then 
you began to take part in local politics and to accumulate 
ambitions. You dared not divorce your wife, and you 
thought there was no necessity for it. You had a chance 
of improving yourself socially by marrying the daughter 
of an English lord, and you jumped at it.’^ 

The man found his voice. 

“You’ve got to prove that,” he said huskily. 

“I can prove it all right. Oh, no, your wife hasn’t 
betrayed you — your real wife, I mean. You’ve betrayed 
yourself by insisting on paying her by telegraphic money 
orders. We heard of these mysterious payments, but sus- 
pected nothing beyond a vulgar love affair. Then one 
night, while your placid and complacent wife was in a 
theater, one of my people searched her rooms and came 
upon the mandage certificate. Would you like to see it? ” 

“I’ve nothing to say,” said Crotin thickly. “You’ve 
got me, mister. So that is how you do it!” 

“ That is how I do it,” said the colonel. “I believe in 
being frank with people like you. Here are the transfers. 
You see the place for your signature marked with a 
pencil. ” 

Suddenly Crotin leaped at him in a blind fury, but the 
colonel gripped him by the throat with a hand like a steel 
vise, and shook him as a dog would shake a rat. And the 
gentle tone in his voice changed as quickly. 


THE COLONEL CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS 55 


‘^Sit down and sign!” demanded Boundary. '‘If you 
play that game, I’ll break your neck! Try any of those 
tricks with me and I’ll smash you. Give him the pen, 
Crewe. ” 

"I’ll see you in jail for this, ” said the white-faced man 
shakily. 

"That’s about the place you will see me, if you don’t 
sign — and it is inside of that jail you’ll be to see me. ” 

The man rose up unsteadily, flinging down the pen as 
he did so. 

"You’ll suffer for this, ” he said between his teeth. 

"Not unduly,” said the colonel. 

There was a tap at the door, and the colonel swung 
round. 

"Who’s that?” he asked. 

"Can I come in?” said a voice. 

Crewe was frowning. 

"Who is it?” asked the colonel. 

The door opened slowly. A gloved hand, and then a 
white, hooded face, slipped through the narrow entry. 

"Jack o’ Judgment! Poor old Jack o’ Judgment come 
to make a call!” chuckled the hateful voice. "Down, 
dog, down!” He flourished the long-barreled revolver 
theatrically, then turned with a chuckle of laughter to 
the gaping Mr. Crotin. 

"Poor Jacob!” he crooned. "He has sold his birth- 
right for a mess of pottage! Don’t touch that paper, 
Crewe, or you die!” 

His hand leaped out and snatched the transfer, which 
he thrust into the hand of the wool spinner. 

"Get out and go home, my poor sheep,” he said, 
"back to the blankets! Do you think they’d be satisfled 


56 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


with one mill? They'd come for a mill every year and 
they'd never leave you till you were dead or broke. Go 
to the police, my poor lamb, and tell them your sad 
story. Go to the admirable Mr. Stafford King he'll 
fall on your neck. You won't! I see you won't!" 

The laughter rose again, and then swiftly with one arm 
he swung back the merchant and stood in silence till the 
door of the flat slammed. 

The colonel found his voice. 

‘‘I don't know who you are," he said, breathing 
heavily, “but I'll make a bargain with you. I've offered 
a hundred thousand pounds to anybody who gets you. 
I'll offer you the same amount to let me alone. " 

“Make, it a hundred thousand millions!" said Jack o' 
Judgment in his curious, squeaky voice; “give me the 
moon and an apple, and I'm yours!" 

He was gone before they could realize he had passed 
through the door, and he had left the flat before either 
moved. 

“Quick! The window!" said the colonel. 

The window commanded a view of the front entrance 
of Albermarle House, and the entry was well lighted. 
They reached the window in time to see the Yorkshireman 
emerge with unsteady steps and stride into the night. 
They waited for their visitor to follow. A minute, two 
minutes passed, and then somebody walked down the 
steps to the light. It was a woman, and as she turned her 
face the colonel gasped. 

“Maisie White!" he said in a wondering voice, “What 
is she doing here?" 


CHAPTER, VIII 


THE LISTENER AT THE DOOR 

Maisie White had taken up her abode in a modest 
flat in Doughty Street, Bloomsbury. The building had 
been originally intended for a dwelling house, but its 
enterprising owner had fitted a kitchenette and a bath- 
room to every floor and had made each suite self-con- 
tained. 

She found the one bedroom and a sitting room quite 
sufficient for her needs. Since the day of h^r father’s 
departure she had not heard from him, and she had 
resolutely refused to worry. What Solomon White’s 
association with the Boundary gang had been, she could 
only guess. She knew it had been an important one, but 
her fears on his behalf had less to do with the action the 
police might take against him than with Boundary’s 
sinister threat. 

She had other reasons for leaving the stage than she 
had told Stafford King. On the stage she was a marked 
woman, and her movements could be followed for at 
least three hours in the day; she was anxious for more 
anonymity. She was conscious of two facts as she opened 
the outer door that night to let herself into the hallway 
and hurried up to her apartments. The first was that 
she had been followed home, and that impression was 
the more important of the two. She did not switch on 
the light when she entered her room, but, bolting the 


58 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


door behind her, she moved swiftly to the window and 
raised it noiselessly. Looking out, she saw two men on 
the opposite side of the street, standing together in 
consultation. It was too dark to recognize them, but she 
thought that one figure was that of Pinto Silva. 

She was not frightened, but nevertheless she looked 
thoughtfully at the telephone, and her hand was on the 
receiver before she changed her mind. After all, they 
would know where she lived, and an inquiry at her agents 
or even at the theater, would tell them to where her 
letters had been readdressed. She hesitated a moment, 
then pulled down the blinds and switched on the light. 

Outside the two men saw the light flash up and watched 
her shadow cross the blind. 

‘at is Maisie all right,'’ said Pinto. “Now tell me 
what happened.” 

In a few words Crewe described the scene which he had 
witnessed in the Albermarle flat. 

“Impossible!” said Pinto. “Are you suggesting that 
Maisie is Jack o’ Judgment?” 

Crewe shrugged his shoulders. 

“I know nothing about it,” he said. “There are the 
facts. ” 

Pinto looked up at the light again. 

“I’m going across to see her,” he said. 

Crewe made a grimace. 

“ Is that wise? ” he asked. “She doesn’t know we have 
followed her home. Won’t she be suspicious?” 

Pinto shrugged his shoulders. 

“She’s a pretty clever girl,” he said, “and if she 
doesn’t know we’re outside there’s nothing of Solomon 
White in her composition. ” 


THE LISTENER AT THE DOOR 


59 


He crossed the road and struck a match to discover 
which was her bell. He guessed right the first time. 
Maisie heard the tinkle and knew what it portended. 
She had not started to disrobe, and after a few moments^ 
hesitation she went down the stairs and opened the 
door. 

^‘It is rather a late hour to call on you,^’ said Pinto 
pleasantly, “but we saw you going away from the 
Albermarle and could not overtake you. 

There was a question in his voice, though he did not 
give it actual words. 

“It is rather late for small talk,’^ she said coolly; “is 
there any reason for your call?^^ 

“ WeU, Miss White, there were several things I wanted 
to talk to you about, ” said Pinto, taken aback by her 
calm. “Have you heard from your father? 

“DonT you think,’’ she said, “it would be better if 
you came at a more conventional hour? I don’t feel 
inclined to gossip on the doorstep, and I’m afraid I can’t 
ask you in. ” 

“The colonel is worrying,” Pinto hastened to explain. 
“You see, Solly’s one of his best friends.” 

The girl laughed softly. 

“I know,” she said. “I heard the colonel talking to 
my father at Horsham, ” she added meaningly. 

“You’ve got to make allowances for the colonel,” 
urged Pinto. “He lost his temper, but he’s feeling all 
right now. Couldn’t you persuade your father to com- 
municate with us — with him? ” 

She shook her head. 

“I am not in a position to communicate with my 
father,” she replied quietly; “I am just as ignorant of 


60 


JACK JUDGMENT 


his whereabouts as you are. If anybody is anxious, it is 
surely myself, Mr. Silva.” 

^^And another point,” Silva went on, so that there 
should be no gap in the conversation, ‘‘why did you give 
up your theatrical engagements, Maisie? I took a lot 
of trouble to get them for you, and it is stupid to 
jeopardize your career. I have plenty of influence, but 
managers will not stand that kind of treatment, and 
when you go back ” 

“I am not going back,” she said. “Really, Mr. Silva, 
you must excuse me tonight. I am very tired after a hard 
day’s work and ” She checked herself. 

“What are you doing now, Maisie?” asked Silva 
curiously. 

“I have no wish to prolong this conversation,” said 1 
the girl, “but there is one thing I should like to say, and I 
that is that I would prefer you to call me ‘Miss White.’ ” 

“All right, all right,” said Silva genially. “And what 
were you doing at the flat tonight, Mai Miss White? ” 

“Goodnight,” said the girl, and closed the door in 
his face. 

He cursed angrily in the dark and raised his hand to 
rap bn the panel of the door, but thought better of it, 
and, turning, walked back to the interested Crewe, who 
stood in the shadow of a lamp-post watching the scene. 

“Well?” asked Crewe. 

“Confound the girl, she won’t talk,” grumbled Silva. 
“I’d give something to break that pride of hers, Crewe. 
By Jove, I’ll do it one of these days,” he added between 
his teeth. 

Crewe laughed. 

“There’s no sense in becoming excited because a girl 


THE LISTENER AT THE DOOR 


61 


turns you down, he said. What did she say about the 
flat? And what did she say about her visit to Albermarle 
Place? 

“She said nothing,” said the other shortly. “Come 
along; let’s go back to the colonel.” 

On the return journey he declined to be drawn into 
any kind of conversation, and Crewe, after one or two 
attempts to procure enlightenment as to the result of the 
interview, relapsed into silence. 

They found the colonel waiting for them, and to all 
appearances the colonel was undisturbed by the happen- 
ings of the evening. 

“Well?” he asked. 

“She admits she was here,” said Pinto. 

“What was she doing?” 

“You’d better ask her yourself,” said the other with 
some asperity; “I tell you, colonel, I can’t handle that 
woman. ” 

“Nobody ever thought you could,” said the colonel. 
“Did she give you any idea as to what her business 
was?” 

Pinto shook his head, and the colonel paced the room 
thoughtfully, his big hands in his pockets. 

“Here’s the situation,” he said. “There’s some out- 
sider who’s following every movement we make, who 
knew that boob from Huddersfield was coming, and who 
knew what our business was. That somebody was this 
infernal Jack o’ Judgment, but who is Jack o’ Judgment, 
hey? ” He looked round fiercely. “ I’ll tell you who he is, ” 
he went on, speaking slowly; “he’s somebody who knows 
our gang as well as we know it ourselves, somebody who 
has been on the inside, somebody who has access, or who 


62 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


has had access, to our working methods; in fact,” using | 
his pet phrase, “a business associate.” : 

“Rubbish!” said Pinto. ^ |! 

This polished man of Portugal, who had come into the ; i 
gang very late in the day, was one of the few people who i 
were privileged to offer blunt opposition to the leader of i ! 
the Boundary gang. 

“You might as well say it is I, or that it is Crewe, or i' 

Dempsey, or ” ; 

“Or White,” said the colonel slowly. “Don’t forget 

White.” 

They stared at him. ^ ' 

“What do you mean?” asked Crewe with a frown. 
White had been a favorite of his. “How could it be 
White?” 

“Why shouldn’t it be White?” said the colonel. ^ 
“ Wht did Jack o’ Judgment make his first appearance? 
I’ll tex.. you. About the time we started getting busy , 
framing up something against White. Did we ever see 
him when White was with us? No! Isn’t it obviously 
somebody who has been a business associate and knows 
Dur little ways? Why, of course it is. Tell me somebody 
else. You don’t suggest it is Snow Gregory, anyway,” 
he added sarcastically. 

Crewe shivered and half closed his eyes. 

“For Heaven’s sake don’t mention Snow Gregory,” 
he said irritably. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” retorted the colonel. “He’s 
worth money and life and liberty to us, Crewe. He’s an 
awful example that keeps some of our business associates 
on the straight path. Not,” he added with elaborate 
care, “not that we were in any way responsible for his 


THE LISTENER AT THE DOOR 


63 


untimely end. But he died — providentially. A dope 
fiend’s bad enough, but a dope fiend who talks and 
boasts and tells me, as he told me in this very room, just 
where he’d put me, is a mighty dangerous man, Crewe.” 

*^Did he do that?” asked Crewe with interest. 

The colonel nodded. 

^‘In this very room where you’re standing,” he said 
impressively. “At the end of that table he stood, all lit 
up with coke, and he told me things about our organiza- 
tion that I thought nobody knew but myself. “That’s 
the worst of drugs, ” he said, shaking his head reprovingly, 
“you never know how clever they’ll make a man, and 
they made Snow a bit too clever. I’m not saying that 
I regretted his death — far from it. I don’t know how he 
got mixed up in the affair, but ” 

“ Oh, shut up ! ” interrupted Pinto. “Why go on acting 
before us? W^e were all in it.” 

“Hush!” said the colonel with a glance at the Cj,or. 

There was a silence. All eyes were fixed on the door. 

“Did you hear anything?” asked the colonel under his 
breath. 

His face was a shade paler than they had ever remem- 
bered seeing it. 

“It is nothing,” said Pinto. “That fellow’s got on 
your nerves.” 

The colonel walked to the sideboard and poured out a 
generous portion of whisky and drank it at a gulp. 

“Lots of things are getting on my nerves,” he said, 
“but nothing gets on my nerves so much as losing money. 
Crewe, we’ve got to go after that Yorkshireman again 
at least somebody has got to go after him. ” 

“And that somebody is not going to be me,” said 


64 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


Crewe quietly; “I did my part of the business. Let 
Pinto have a turn/’ 

Pinto Silva shook his head. , 

We’ll drop him,” he said decisively; and for the first 
time Crewe realized how dominating a factor Pinto had 
become in the government of the band. “We’ll drop 
him ” 

Suddenly he stopped and craned his head round. 

It was he who had heard something near the door, and 
now, with noiseless steps, he tiptoed across the room, 
went to the door, and, gripping the handle, opened it 
suddenly. A gun had appeared in his hand, but he did 
not use it. Instead, he darted through the open door- 
way, and they heard the sound of a struggle. Presently 
he came back, dragging by the collar a man. 

“Got him!” he said triumphantly, and hurled his 
captive into the nearest chair. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE COLONEL EMPLOYS A DETECTIVE 

Their prisoner was a stranger. He was a lean, furtive- 
looking man of thirty-five, below middle height, respect- 
ably dressed, and, at first glance, the colonel, whose hobby 
was distinguishing at a look the social standing of 
humanity, was unable to place him. 

Crewe locked the door. 

^‘Now then,'^ said the colonel, ‘^what were you doing, 
listening at my door? Was that his game, Mr. Silva? 

“That was his game,’^ said the other, brushing his 
hands. 

“What have you got to say before I send for the 
police?” asked the colonel virtuously. “What have you 
got to say for yourself? Sneaking about a gentleman’s 
flat, listening at keyholes!” 

The man, who had been roughly handled, had risen 
and was putting his collar straight. If he had been taken 
aback by the sudden onslaught, he was completely self- 
possessed now. 

“If you want to send for the police you’d better start 
right away,” he said. “You’ve got a telephone, haven’t 
you? Perhaps I’ll have a job for the policeman, too. 
You’ve no right to assault me, my friend,” he said, 
addressing Pinto resentfully. 

“What were you doing?” asked the colonel. 

“Find out,” said the man sharply. 

65 


66 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


The colonel stroked his long mustache, and his manner 

underwent a change. ^ • • n ' 

“Now look here, old man,^* he said almost jovially, 
“wehe all friends here, and we don’t want any trouble. 

I dare say you’ve made a mistake, and my friend has 
made a mistake. Have a whisky-and-soda?” 

The man grinned crookedly. ^ 

“Not me, thank you,” he said emphatically. If I 
remember rightly, there was a young gentleman who , 
took a glass of water in North Lambeth Police Court the ■ 

other day, and ” 

The colonel’s eyes narrowed. 

“Well, sit down and be sociable. If you’re suggesting 
that I’m going to poison you, you’re also suggesting that 
vou know something which I don’t want you to tell, 
or that you have discovered one of those terrible secrets i 
that the newspapers are all writing about. Now be a | 
sensible man; have a drink.” 

The man hesitated. 

“You have a drink of whisky out of the same bottle, 
and I’ll join you.” 

“Help yourself,” said the colonel good-naturedly, 
“give me any glass you like.” 

The man went to the sideboard, poured out two 
portions and sent the soda water sizzling into the long 

glasses. _ ^ 

“ Here’s yours and here’s mine, ” he said. “ Good luck! ” 
He drank the whisky off, after he had seen the colonel 
drink his, and wiped his mouth with a gaudy handker- 
chief. 

“I’m taking it for granted,” said the colonel, '‘that 
we’ve made no mistake and that you were listening at 


THE COLONEL EMPLOYS A DETECTIVE 67 


our door. Now we want no unpleasantness, and weT 
talk about this matter as sensible human beings, and 
man to man.” 

^‘That’s the way to talk, ” said the other, smacking his 
lips. 

'‘YouVe been sent here to watch me.” 

may have and I may not have, ” said the other. 

Pinto shifted impatiently, but the colonel stopped him 
with a look. 

'‘Now let me see what you are,” mused the colonel, 
still wearing that benevolent smile of his. "You’re not 
an ordinary tradesman. You’ve got a look of the book 
canvasser about you. I have it — you’re a private 
detective!” 

The man smirked. 

"Perhaps I am,” said he; "and,” he added, "perhaps 
I’m not.” 

The colonel slapped him on the shoulder. 

"Of course you are,” he said confidently. "We don’t 
see shrewd-looking fellows like you every day. You’re a 
detective!” 

"Not official,” said the man quickly. 

He had all the English private detective’s fear of 
posing as the genuine article. 

"Now look here,” said the colonel, "I’m going to be 
perfectly straight with you, and you’ve got to be straight 
with me. That’s fair, isn’t it?” 

"Quite fair,” said the man. "If IVe been miscon- 
ducting myself in any manner ” 

"Don’t mention it,” said the colonel politely. "Mv 
friends here will apologize for handling you roughly. 
I’m sure; won’t you, Mr. Silva?” 


68 


JACK JUDGMENT 


^^Sure!” said the other without any great heartiness. 
He was tired of this conversation and was anxious to 
know where it was leading. 

“You’re not in the private detective business for your 
health,” said the colonel, and the man shook his head. 
“I bet you’re working for a firm that’s paying you about 
three pounds a week and your miserable expenses — a 
dog’s life.” 

“You’re quite right there,” said the man — and he 
spoke with the earnestness of the ill-used wage earner. 
“It is a dog’s life; out in all kinds of weather, all hours 
of the day and night, and never so much as ‘thank you’ 
for any work you do. Why, we get no credit at all, sir. 
If we go into the witness box the lawyers treat us like 
dirt.” 

“I absolutely agree with you,” said the colonel, 
shaking his head. “I think the private detective business 
in this country isn’t appreciated as it ought to be. And 
it is very curious we should have met you,” he went on. 
“ Only this evening I was saying to my friends here that 
we ought to get a good man to look after our interests. 
You’ve heard about me, I’m sure, Mr. ” 

“Snakit, ” said the other. “Here’s my card.” 

He produced a card from his waistcoat pocket, and 
the colonel read it. 

“Mr. Horace Snakit,” he said, “of Dooby & Somes. 
Now what do you say to coming into our service?” 

The man blinked. 

“I’ve got a good job ” he began inconsistently. 

“I’ll give you a better — six pounds a week, regular 
expenses and an allowance for dressing. ” 

“It’s a go!” said Mr. Snakit promptly. 


THE COLONEL EMPLOYS A DETECTIVE 69 


^‘Well you can consider yourself engaged right away. 
Now, Mr. Snakit, as frankness is the basis of our inter- 
course, you will tell me at once whether you were engaged 
in watching me?^’ 

admit that, sir,^’ said the man readily. had a 
job to watch you and to discover if you knew the where- 
abouts of a certain person.’’ 

^‘Who engaged you?” 

‘‘Well,” the man hesitated, “I don’t know whether it 
isn’t betraying the confidence of a client.” He waited 
for some encouragement to pursue the path of rectitude 
and honor, but received none. “Well, I’ll tell you can- 
didly, our firm has been engaged by a young lady. She 
brought me here tonight.” 

“Miss White, eh?” said the colonel quickly. 

“Miss White it was, sir,” said Snakit. 

“So that was why she was here? She wanted to show 
you ” 

“Just where your rooms were, sir,” said the man. 
“She also wanted to show me the back stairs, by which 
I could get out of the building if I wanted to. ” 

“What were your general instructions?” 

“Just to watch you, sir, and if I had an opportunity, 
when you were out, to sneak in and look around. ” 

“I see, ” said the colonel. “ Crewe, just take Mr. Snakit 
downstairs and tell him where to report. Fix up his pay 
— you know.” He gave a significant sideways jerk of 
his head, and Crewe escorted the gratified little detective 
from the apartment. 

When the door had closed the colonel turned on Silva. 

“Pinto,” he said — and there was a rumble in his 
voice which betrayed his anger — “ that girl is dangerous. 


70 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


She may or may not know where her father is; this 
detective business may be a blind. Probably Snakit was 
sent here knowing that he would be captured and would 
talk.’^ 

“That struck me, too,” said Pinto. 

“She’s dangerous,” repeated the colonel. He resumed ; 
his promenade up and down the room. “She’s an active 
worker, and she’s working against us. Now I’m going 
to settle with Miss White,” he said gratingly; “I’m 
going to settle with her for good and all. I don’t care 
what she knows, but she probably knows too much. 
She’s hand in glove with the police and maybe she’s i 
working with her father. You’ll get Phillopolis here 
tomorrow in the morning ” 

The other’s eyes opened. 

“Phillopolis?” He almost gasped. “You’re not going 
to ” 

The colonel faced him squarely. 

You ve had your chance with the girl and you’ve 
missed it,” he said; “you’ve tried your fancy method of 
courting and you’ve fallen down. ” 

“But I’m not going to stand for Phillopolis,” said 
the other, with tense face. “I tell you I like the girl. 

There’s going to be none of that smuggling ” 

Oh, there isn t, isn’t there?” said the colonel in his ?■ 
silkiest tone. j 

Then suddenly he leaned forward across the table, t 
and his face was the face of a devil. 

“There’s only one Boundary gang, Pinto, and this ' 
is it,” he said between his clenched white teeth; “and !i 
there’s only one Dan Boundary, and that’s me! Do you \ 
get me, Pinto? You can go a long way with me if I |] 


THE COLONEL EMPLOYS A DETECTIVE 71 


happen to be going that way. But you stand in the road 
and you’re going to get what’s coming to you! I’ve been 
good to you, Pinto. I’ve stood your interference because 
it amused me. But you oppose me, really oppose me, 
and you’ll know it. Did you get that?’^ 
got it,” said Pinto sullenly. 


CHAPTER X 


THE GREEK 

The upbuilding of the Boundary gang had neither 
been an accident, nor was it exactly designed on the 
lines which it ultimately followed. 

The main structure was Boundary himself, with his 
extraordinary financial genius, his plausibility, his light- 
ning exploitation of every advantage which offered. 
Outwardly he was the head of three trading corporations 
which complied with the laws, paid small but respectable 
dividends, and cloaked other operations which never 
appeared in the oJB&cial records of the companies. 

The side lines of the gang came through force of cir- 
cumstances. Men, good, bad, and indifferent, were 
drawn into the orbit of its activities, as extraordinary 
circumstances arose or dire necessities dictated. Through- 
out the length and breadth of Britain, through France, 
Italy, and, in the days before the war, in Germany, in 
Russia, and in the United States, were men, who, if 
they could not be described as agents, were at least 
ready tools. 

He had a finger in every unsavory pie. The bank 
robber discharged from jail did not ask Colonel Boundary 
to finance him in the purchase of a new kit of tools — an 
up-to-date burglar’s kit costs a considerable amount — 
but there were people who would lend the money, which 
eventually came out of the colonel’s pocket. Some of 
72 


THE GREEK 


73 


the businesses he financed were on the border line of 
respectability. Some into which his money was sunk 
were frankly infamous. But it was a popular fiction that 
he knew nothing of these, or, if he did know that he was 
financing a scoundrel, it was insisted that that scoundrel 
was engaged in — so far as the colonel knew — legitimate 
enterprise. 

Paul Phillopolis was a small Greek merchant, who had 
an office in Mincing Court — a tiny room at the top of 
four flights of stairs. On the glass panel of its door was 
the announcement : General Exporter. ” 

Mr. Phillopolis spent three or four hours at his office 
daily, and for the rest of the time, particularly toward 
the evening, was to be found in a cafe in Soho. He was 
a dark little man, with fierce mustache and a set of 
perfect white teeth which he displayed readily, for he 
was easily amused. His most intimate acquaintances 
knew him to be an exporter of Greek produce to South 
America, and he was, in the large sense of the word, 
eminently respectable. 

Occasionally he would be seen away from his customary 
haunt, discussing with a compatriot some very urgent 
business, which few knew about. For there were ships 
which cleared from the Greek ports, carrying cargoes to 
the order of Mr. Phillopolis, which did not appear in any 
bill of lading. Armenian girls, girls from South Russia, 
from Greece, from Smyrna, en route to a promised land, 
looked forward to the realization of those wonderful 
visions which the Greek agent had so carefully 
sketched. 

In half a dozen South American towns the proprietors 
of as many dance halls would look over the new importa- 


74 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


tions approvingly and remit their bank drafts to the 
merchant of Mincing Court. 

The colonel departed from his usual practice and met 
the Greek himself, the place of meeting being a small 
hotel in Aldgate. Whatever other pretenses the colonel 
made, he did not attempt to continue the fiction that he 
was ignorant of the Greek’s trade. 

^‘Paul, ” he said, after the first greetings were over, 
‘‘I’ve been a good friend to you. ” 

“You have, indeed, colonel,” said the man gratefully. 
He spoke English with a very slight accent, for he had 
been born and educated in London. “If ever I can render 
you a service ” 

“You can,” said the colonel, “but it is not going to 
be easy. ” 

The Greek eyed him curiously. 

“Easy or hard,” he said, “I’ll go through with it.” 

The colonel nodded. 

“How is the business in South America?” he asked 
suddenly. 

The Greek spread out his hands in deprecation. 

“Very poor,” he said tragically. “All those beautiful 
girls waiting for music-hall engagements and impossible 
to send them because of the unsettled condition of their 
countries. I must have lost thousands of pounds. ” 

“The demand hasn’t slackened off, eh?” asked the 
colonel, and the Greek smiled. 

“ South America is full of money. They have millions 
— billions. Almost every other man is a millionaire. 
The music halls have patrons but no talent. ” 

The colonel smiled grimly. 

“Cut that stuff out, Paul,” he said brutally, “and let 


THE GREEK 


75 


us get down to facts,. There^s a girl in London of excep- 
tional ability. She has appeared in a music hall here, and 
she’s as beautiful as a dream.” 

^‘English?” asked the Greek. 

“Irish,” said the other. “As pretty as a picture, 
I tell you. She will make a great hit. ” 

The Greek look puzzled. 

“Does she want to go?” he asked, and the colonel 
snarled round at him. 

“Do you think I should come and ask you to book her 
passage if she wanted to go?” he demanded. “Of course 
she doesn’t want to go, and she doesn’t know she’s going. 
But I want her out of the way. You understand?” 

Mr. Phillopolis pulled a long face. 

“To take her from England?” 

“From London,” said the colonel. 

The Greek shook his head. 

“It is impossible,” he said. “Passports are required, 
and unless she was willing to go it would be impossible to 
take her. You can’t kidnap a girl and rush her out of the 
country, colonel.” 

Boundary interrupted him impatiently. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” he asked. “Your 
job is, when she’s in a fit state of mind, to take her across 
and put her somewhere where she’s not coming back for 
a long time, and not caring much whether she ever comes 
back. Do you understand?” 

“I understand that part of it very well,” said the 
Greek. “You get her to Rio and I’ll do the rest.” 

“You’ll get her to Rio,” said Boundary. “I’m not 
to be mixed up in it. The only thing I can promise you 
is that she’ll go quietly. I’ll have her passports fixed. 


76 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


She^ll be traveling for her health — you understand? 
And I promise you that her health will be so bad that 
shell give you no trouble. When you get to South 
America I want you to take her into the interior of the 
country. You’re not to leave her in one of these coast 
towns where English and American tourists are likely to 
meet her.” 

^^What do I get out of it?” asked the Greek frankly. 

*^Youll get out of it what she’s worth to the musk 
halls,” said the colonel shortly; '‘you know your own 
beastly business better than I do. I tell you she’s worth i 
a gold mine.” 

"But how are you going to ” I 

"That’s my business,” said the colonel. "You under- j 
stand what you have to do. I’ll send you the date you j 
leave, and I’ll pay her passage and yours. For any extra 
expenses you can send the bill to me; you understand?” 

Obviously it was not a job to the liking of Phillopolis, 
but he had good reason to fear the colonel and acquiesced 
with a nod. Boundary went back to where he had left 
Pinto and found the Portuguese biting his finger nails — 
a favorite spare-time occupation of his. 

"Did you fix it?” he asked in a low voice. 

"Of course I fixed it,” said the colonel sharply. 

"I’m not going to have anything to do with it,” said 
the other, and the colonel smiled. 

"Maybe you’ll change your mind, ” he said significantly. 

There was a knock at the door and the colonel himself 
answered it. He took the card from the servant’s hand 
and read; "Mr. Stafford King, Criminal Intelligence 
Department. ” He looked from the card to Pinto, then 
said: "Show him in.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE COLONEL AT SCOTLAND YARD 

The two men had not met since they had parted at 
the door of the North Lambeth Police Court, and there 
was in Colonel Boundary’s smile something of forgiveness 
and gentle reproach. 

“Well, Mr. King,” he said, “come in, come in, won’t 
you?” 

He offered his hand to the other, but Stafford 
apparently did not see it. 

“No malice, I trust, Mr. King?” said the colonel 
genially. “You know my friend Mr. Silva? A business 
associate of mine, a director of several of my com- 
panies. ” 

“I know him all right,” said Stafford, and added, 
“I hope to know him better.” 

Pinto recognized the underlying sense of the words, 
but not a muscle of his face moved. For Stafford King 
the hatred with which he regarded the law took on a 
personal character. This man was something more than 
a thief taker and a tracker of criminals. Pinto chose to 
regard him as the close friend of Maisie White, and, as 
such, his rival. 

“And to what are we indebted for this visit?” asked 
the bland colonel. 

“The chief wants to see you.” 

“The chief?” 


77 


78 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


^^Sir Stanley Belcom. Being the chief of our depart- 
ment, I should have thought you had heard of him. 

''Sir Stanley Belcom,’’ repeated the other. "Why, 
of course, I know Sir Stanley by repute. May I ask 
what he wants to see me about? And how is my young 
^riend — er — Miss White?” 

"When I saw her last,’' replied Stafford steadily, 
"she was looking pretty well, so far as I could tell.” 

"Indeed!” said the colonel politely. "I have a con- 
siderable interest in the welfare of Miss White. May 
I ask when you saw her?” 

"Last night,” replied Stafford. "She was standing at | 
the door of her apartments in Doughty Street, having i 
a little talk with your friend”— he nodded to Pinto i 
and Pinto started. "Also,” added the cheerful Stafford, 

another mutual friend of ours, Mr. Crewe, was within 
hailing distance, unless I am greatly mistaken. ” t 

"So you were watching, eh?” burst out Pinto. “1 ' 
thought after the lesson you had a couple of weeks ago j 
you’d have ” 

" Let me carry on this conversation if you don’t mind, ” 
said the colonel, and the fury in his eyes silenced the ^ 
Portuguese. 

"We have agreed to let bygones be bygones, Mr. King, 
and I am sure it is only his excessive zeal on my behalf 
that induced our friend to be so indiscreet as to refer i' 
to the unpleasant happenings — which we will allow to i 
pass from our memories.” f 

So the girl was being watched. That made things rather 
more difficult than he had imagined. Nevertheless, he i 
anticipated no supreme obstacle to the actual abduction, i, 
His plans had been made that morning, when he saw in 


THE COLONEL AT SCOTLAND YARD 79 


the columns of the daily newspaper a four-line advertise- 
ment which, to a large extent, had cleared away the 
greatest of his difficulties. 

“And if Mr. King is looking after our young friend, 
Maisie White, the daughter of one of our deaiest business 
associates -- why, I’m glad,” he went on heartily. 
“London, Mr. King, is a place full of danger for young 
girls, particularly those who are deprived of the loving 
care of a parent, and one of the chief attractions, if I 
may be allowed to say so, which the police have for me, 
is the knowledge that they are the protectors of the 
unprotected, the guardians of the unguarded.” 

He made a little bow, and for all his amusement 
Stafford gravely acknowledged the handsome compliment 
which the most notorious scoundrel in London had paid 
the metropolitan police for«e. 

“When am I to see your chief?” 

“You can come along with me now if you like, or you 
can go tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, ” said Stafford. 

The colonel scratched his chin. 

“Of course, I understand that this summons is in the 
nature of a friendly ” He stopped questioningly. 

“Oh, certainly,” said Stafford, his eyes twinkling; 
“it isn’t the customary ‘come-along-o’-me’ demand. 
I think the chief wants to meet you, to discover just 
the kind of person you are. You will like him, I think, 
colonel. He is the sort of man who takes a tremendous 
interest in — er ” 

“In crime?” said the colonel gently. 

“I was trying to think of a nice word to put in its 
place,” admitted Stafford; “at any rate, he is interested 
in you.” 


80 


JACK JUDGMENT 


There is no time like the present/' said the colonel. 
Pinto, will you find my hat?’' 

On the way to Scotland Yard they chatted on general 
subjects till Stafford asked: 

^^Have you had another visitation from your friend?" 
^‘The Jack o’ Judgment?’’ asked the colonel. ^‘Yes, 
we met him the other night. He’s rather amusing. By 
the way, have you had complaints from anywhere else? ’’ 
Stafford shook his head. 

“No, he seems to have specialized on you, colonel. 
You have certainly the monopoly of his attentions. ’’ 
“What is going to happen, supposing he makes an 
appearance when I happen to have a lethal weapon 
ready?" asked the colonel. “I have never killed a person 
in my life, and I hope the sad experience will not be 
mine. But from the police point of view, how do I stand, 
supposing — there is an accident? ” 

Stafford shrugged his shoulders. 

“ That is his lookout, ’’ he said. “ If you are threatened 
I dare say a jury of your fellow countrymen will decide 
that you acted in self-defense. ’’ 

“He came the other night," the colonel said reminis- 
cently, “ when we were fixing up a particularly difficult — 
er — business negotiation. ’’ 

“Bad luck!" said Stafford. “I suppose the mug was 
scared?" 

“The what?" asked the puzzled colonel. 

“The mug," said Stafford. “You may not have heard 
the expression. It means 'can’— -‘fool’— 'dupe.”' 

The colonel drew a long breath. 

“ You still bear malice, I see, Mr. King, " he said sadly. 
He entered the portals of Scotland Yard without so 


THE COLONEL AT SCOTLAND YARD SI 


much as a tremor, passed up the broad stairs and alouf?: 
the unlovely corridors, till he came to the double doors 
which marked the first commissioner’s private office. 
Stafford disappeared for a moment and presently return ‘h I 
with the news that the first commissioner would not be 
able to see his visitor for half an hour. Stafford apolo- 
gized, but the colonel was affability itself and kept up 
running conversation until a beckoning secretary notified 
him that the great man was disengaged. 

It was King who ushered the colonel into the com - 
missioner’s presence. Sir Stanley was writing at a big 
desk and looked up as the colonel entered. 

“Sit down, colonel,” he said, nodding his head to a 
chair on the opposite side of the desk. “You needn t 
wait. King. There are one or two things I want to spealc 
to the colonel about.” 

When the door had closed behind the detecti-e, Sir 
Stanley leaned back in his chair. Their eyes mt the 
gray and the faded blue, and for the space of a 
seconds they stared. Sir Stanley Relcom was the first to 

drop his eyes. t xu- , 

“I’ve sent for you, colonel,” he said, because I thimc 

you might give me a great deal of information if you re 


willing.” 

“ Command me, ” said the colonel grandly. ^ 

“It is on the matter of a murder which was committed 
in London a few years ago,” said the commissionei 
quietly, and for a moment Colonel Boundary did not 


presume jfou are referring to the Snow 

murder, ” he said at last. 

“Exactly.” The commissioner nodded. 


Gregory 
We have 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


S2 

lu' d an inquiry from America as to the identity of this 
3 (‘ang man. Now you knew him better than anybody 
eise in London, colonel. Can you tell me, was he an 
American?’^ 

Emphatically not, ” said the colonel with a little sigh, 

though he were relieved at the turn the conversation 

s taking. ^‘1 came to know him through — er — 
' ircumstances, and exactly what they were I cannot 
for the moment remember. I had a lot to do with him. 
He did odd jobs for me.’’ 

‘^Was he well educated?” asked the commissioner. 

'^Yes, I should say he was,” said the colonel slowly. 
“T'here was a story that he had been at Oxford, and 
(hut’s very likely true. He spoke like a college man.” 

“Do you know if he had any relations in England?” 

The commissioner eyed the other straightly, and the 
f'olonel hesitated. “ How much does this man know?” he 
v'ond' red, and decided that he could do no harm if he 
tuld all the truth. 

“He had no relations in England,” he said, ‘‘but he 
had a father who was abroad.” 

“Ah! Now we’re getting at some facts,” said the 
Cv mmissioner, and drew a slip of paper toward him. 
“What was the father’s name?” 

The colonel shook his head. 

“That I can’t tell you, sir,” he said. “I should like 
’O oblige you, but I have no more idea of what his name 
v/t.' 5 than the man in the moon. I believe he was in India 
1 ecause letters from India used to come to Gregory.” 

“Was Gregory his name?” 

“His Christian name, I think,” said the colonel after a 
I'ioment’s thought. “He got into some scrape at college 


THE COLONEL AT SCOTLAND YARD 83 

and was not graduated. ’ Then he went to Paris and 
started to study art, and he got in bad there, too. That’s 
as much as he ever told me. ” 

^‘He had no brothers?” asked the commissioner. 

‘‘None,” said the colbnel emphatically. “I am certain 
of that, because he once declared he was thankful that 
he was the only child. ” 

“I see,” nodded the commissioner again. “You have 
formed no theory as to why he met his death or how?” 

“No theory at all,” said the colonel, but corrected 
himself. “Of course. I’ve had ideas and opinions, but 
none of them has ever worked out. So far as I know, he 
had no enemies, although he was a quick-tempered chap, 
especially when he was recovering from a dose of cocaine, 
and would quarrel with his own grandmother. ” 

“You’ve no idea why he was in London? Apparently 
he did not live there.” 

The colonel shrugged his massive shoulders. 

“No; I couldn’t tell you anything about that, sir,” 
he said. 

“He was not an American?” asked the commissioner 
again. 

“I could swear to that,” answered the colonel. 

There was a pause, and he waited. 

“There’s another matter.” The commissioner spoke 
slowly. “I understand that you are being bothered by a 
mysterious individual who calls himself the Knave of 
Judgment. ” 

“Jack o’ Judgment,” corrected the colonel with a 
comtemptuous smile. “That sort of monkey tricks don’t 
bother me, I can assure you.” 

“I have my theories about the Jack o’ Judgment,” 


84 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


said the commissioner. have been looking up the 
circumstances of the murder, and I seem to remember 
that on the body was found a playing card. ” 

That’s right,” said the colonel, who had remembered 
the fact himself many times. ^‘The jack of clubs. ” 

^‘Do you know what that jack of clubs signified?” 
asked the commissioner, but the colonel could honestly 
say that he did not. Its presence on the body had fre- 
quently puzzled him and he had never found a solution. 
‘‘There is a certain type of ruffian to be found, particu- 
larly in Paris, who affects this sort of theatrical trade- 
mark. Did you know that? ” 

The colonel was suddenly stricken to silence. He did 
not know this fact, in spite of his extraordinary knowledge 
of the criminal world. 

“These men have their totems and their sign manuals,” 
said the commissioner; “for example, the apache who 
was executed at Nantes the other day invariably left a 
domino — the double-six — near his victim. ” 

This was news to the colonel, too. 

“I’ve been giving a great deal of thought and time to 
this old case, ” said the commissioner, “and I was hoping 
that perhaps you could help me. The most workable 
theory that I can suggest is that this unfortunate man was 
destroyed by a French criminal of the class which I have 
indicated, the bullying apache type, which is so common 
in France. Why the murder was committed” — the 
commissioner fingered his paper knife carelessly — “ what 
led to it and who committed it, and more especially who 
instigated the crime, are matters which seem to me to 
defy detection. Do you agree?” 

“I quite agree,” said the colonel, licking his dry lips. 


THE COLONEL AT SCOTLAND YARD 85 


*^Now I suggest to you,” said the commissioner, ^Hhat 
your Jack o’ Judgment, whoever he is, is some relation 
to the dead man.” 

He spoke slowly and emphatically, and the colonel 
did not raise his eyes from the desk. 

It is not my business to make life any easier for you, ” 
the commissioner was saying, ‘^or to assist you in any 
way. But as the Jack o’ Judgment seems to me to be 
engaged in a wholly illegal practice and as I, in my capac- 
ity, must suppress illegal practices, I make you a present 
of this suggestion.” 

“That the Jack o’ Judgment is related to Snow 
Gregory?” asked the colonel huskily. 

“That is my suggestion,” said the commissioner 

“And you think ” 

The commissioner raised his shoulders. 

“I think he is your greatest danger, colonel,” he said; 
“far greater than the police, far greater than the clever 
minds which are planning to bring you to prison and 
possibly,” he added, “to the gallows.” 

Ordinarily the colonel would have protested at the 
suggestion in the speech, protested laughingly or with 
dignity, but now he was stricken dumb, both by the 
seriousness of the commissioner’s voice and by the con- 
sciousness of a new and a more terrible danger than any 
that had confronted him. He rose, realizing that the 
interview was ended. 

“I am greatly obliged to you. Sir Stanley,” he said, 
clearing his throat; “it is good of you to warn me, but 
I’d like you to think that I am not engaged in any 
dishonest ” 

‘‘We’ll let that matter stand over for discussion until 


80 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


another time, ” said the commissioner dryly. As Stafford 
King came into the room he turned to him. You might 
show the colonel the way to the street. Otherwise he 
will be getting himself entangled in some of our deten- 
tion rooms. Good morning, Colonel Boundary. Don’t 
forget. ” 

“I’m not likely to,” said the colonel. 

He recovered his poise quickly enough, and by the 
time he was in the street he was back in his old mood. 
But he had had a shock. That sunny afternoon was 
filled with shadows. The booming bells of Big Ben tolled 
‘‘Jack o’ Judgment”; the very wheels of the taxi droned 
the words. And Colonel Boundary went back to Alber- 
marle Place for the first time in his life with his confidence 
in Colonel Boundary shaken. 

There was nobody in save the one man servant he kept 
by the day, and he passed into the dining room overlook- 
ing the street. He had work to do, and it had to be done 
quickly. In one of the walls was set a stout safe, and this 
he opened, taking from it a steel box, which he carried to 
the table. There was a fire laid on the hearth, and to 
this he put a match, though the day was warm enough. 
Then he proceeded to unlock the box. Apparently it was 
empty, but, taking out his scarfpin, he inserted the 
point in a tiny hole which would have escaped casual 
observation, and pressed. 

Half the steel bottom of the box leaped up, disclosing 
a shallow cavity beneath. The colonel stared. There had 
been two letters put in there, letters which he had secreted 
until such time as it might be necessary to bring a recal- 
citrant agent to heel. They were gone. He slid his fingers 
beneath the half of the bottom which had not opened. 


THE COLONEL AT SCOTLAND YARD 87 


and felt a card. He drew this out and looked at it, licking 
his lips the while. 

For the space of a minute he stared and stared at the 
knave of clubs he held in his hand, a knave of clubs signed 
with a flourish across its face: “Jack o’ Judgment.” Then 
he flung the card into the fire, and, walking to the side- 
board, splashed whisky into a tumbler with a hand that 
shook. 


CHAPTER XII 


BITYING A NURSING HOME 

The building in which Colonel Boundary had this 
beautiful home was of a type not uncommonly met with 
in the West End of London. The street floor was taken 
up entirely with shops, the first floor with oflices, and 
the remainder of the building was practically given over 
to the colonel. One by one, he had ousted every tenant 
from the building, and practically the whole of the four- 
teen sets of apartments which constituted the residential 
portion of the building was held by him in one name or 
another. Some he had obtained by the payment of heavy 
premiums, some he had secured when the lease of the 
former tenant had lapsed, some he had gathered in by 
subletting. He had tried to buy the building, since 
it served his purpose well, but came against a deed of 
trust and the Court of Chancery, and had wisely refrained 
from going any further into a matter which must bring 
him vis-a-vis with a master in Chancery, with all the pub- 
licity which such a transaction entailed. 

Nor had he been successful in acquiring any of the 
premises on the first floor. They were held by three very 
old-established businesses — an estate agent, a firm of 
land surveyors, and the ofiices of a valuer. He missed his 
opportunity, at any rate, of securing the business of 
Lee & Hoi, the surveyors, and did not know it was in 
the market until after it had been transferred to a new 
88 


BUYING A NURSING HOME 


89 


owner. But they were quiet, sober tenants, who closed 
: their offices between five and six every night and did not 
open them until between nine and ten on the following 
morning, and their very respectability gave him a certain 
privacy. 

The new properietor of Lee & Hoi was a short-sighted, 
elderly man of no great conversational power, and appar- 
ently of no fixed purpose in life except to say ‘‘no’^ to the 
very handsome offers which the colonel’s agents made 
when they discovered there was a chance of repurchasing 
the business. Boundary had personally inspected all the 
offices. He had found an excuse to visit them several 
times, duly noted the arrangements of the furniture, the 
sizes of the staffs and the general character of the business 
which was being carried on. This was a necessary 
precaution because these offices were immediately under 
his own flat. But just now they had a special value 
because it was a practice during the daytime for the three 
firms to employ a receiving clerk, who occupied a little 
glass-partitioned office on the landing and attended 
: impartially to the needs of all three tenants to the best 
t of his ability. 

Boundary descended the stairs and found the elderly 
1 man in his office, leisurely and laboriously affixing 
i: stamps to a pile of letters. The colonel called him from 
: his task. 

‘‘Judson,” he said, “have you seen anybody go up 
“ to my room this afternoon?” 

The man thought. 

“No, sir; I haven’t,” he replied, 
i “Have you been here all the time?” 

\ “Yes; since one o’clock I have been in my' 'office,” 


90 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


said the commissioner. ^^None of our tenants wanted 
anything. ” 

You didn’t go out to go to the mail box?” 

^‘No, sir,” said the man. “I’ve practically not stirred 
from this office except for one minute when I went into 
Mr. Lee’s office to get these letters. ” 

“And you’ve seen nobody go upstairs?” 

“Not since Mr. Silva came down, sir. He came down 
after you, if you remember.” 

“Nobody’s been up?” insisted the other. 

“Not a soul. Your servan t came down before you, 
sir.” 

“That’s true,” said the colonel, remembering that he 
had sent the man on a special journey to Huddersfield 
with a letter to the bigamous Mr. Crotin. “You haven’t 
seen a lady go up at all?” he asked suddenly. 

“Nobody has gone up them stairs,” said the doorman 
emphatically. “I hope you haven’t lost anything, sir?” 

The colonel shook his head. 

“No, I haven’t lost anything. If anything, I’ve found 
something,” he said grimly. 

He slipped half a crown into the man’s hand. 

“You needn’t mention the fact that I’ve been making 
inquiries,” he said, and went slowly up the stairs 
again. 

The card had been put there that day. He would 
swear to it. The ink on the card had not had time to 
darken, and when he made a further search of his room, 
this view was confirmed by the appearance of his blotting 
pad. The card had been dried there, and the pen, which 
had been left on the table, was still damp. 

The colonel passed into his bedroom and took off his 


BUYING A NURSING HOME 


91 


coat and vest. He searched his drawer and found what 
■ looked to be like a pair of suspenders made of light fabric. 
These he slipped over his shoulder, adjusting them so that 
beneath his left arm hung a canvas holster. From another 
drawer he took an automatic pistol, pulled the maga- 
zine from the butt and examined it before he returned 
it and forced a cartridge into the breach by drawing back 
the cover of the pistol. This he carefully oiled, and then, 

, pressing up the safety catch, he slipped the pistol into 
the holster and resumed his coat and vest. 

It was a long time since Uhe colonel had carried a gun 
under his arm, but his old efficiency was unimpaired, 
j He practiced before a mirror and was satisfied with his 
i celerity. He loaded a spare magazine, and dropped it into 
I the capacious pocket of his waistcoat. Then, putting the 
remainder of the cartridges away neatly, he closed the 
I box, shut the drawer and went back to his room. If all 
I the commissioner had hinted were true, if this mysterious 
j visitor was laying for him because of the Snow Gregory 
i affair, he should have what was coming to him. 

The colonel was no coward, and if this eerie experience 
had got a little on his nerves, it was not to be wondered at. 
He drew up a chair to the table, sitting in such a position 
that he could see the door, took a pencil and a sheet of 
paper, and began to write rapidly. 

The rnan^s knowledge was encyclopedic. Not once 
did he pause or refer to a catalogue, and he was still 
writing when Crewe came in. The colonel looked up 

‘‘You’re the man I want,” he said. 

He handed the other three sheets of paper, closely 
covered with writing. 

“What’s this?” asked Crewe, and read: “Twenty- 


92 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


three iron bedsteads, twenty-three mattresses’ twenty- 
three — why, what’s all this, colonel?” 

“You can go down to Tottenham Court Road and 
you can order all that furniture to be taken into No. 3 
Washburn Avenue.” 

“Are you furnishing a children’s orphanage or some- 
thing? ” asked the other in surprise. 

“I am furnishing a nursing home, to be exact,” said 
the colonel slowly. “I bought it this morning, and I’m l 
going to furnish it tomorrow. Send Lollie Marsh to me. 
Tell her I want her to get three women of the right sort 
to take charge of a mental case which is coming to my 
nursing home. By the way, you had better telegraph to 
old Boyton, or, better still, go in a cab and get him. 
He’ll probably be drunk, but he’s still on the medical 
register, and he’s the man I want. Take him at once 
to Washburn Avenue, and don’t forget that it’s his 
nursing home and not mine. My name doesn’t occur in 
this matter. You’d better get a dummy to do the buying 
for you from the furniture people. ” 

“Who is the mental case?” asked the other. 

“Maisie White;” snapped the colonel, and Crewe 
stared. 

“Mad?” he said incredulously. “Is Maisie mad?” 

“She may not be at present,” said Boundary, “but 
by the time I’m through with her ” 

He did not finish his sentence. Crewe, who was once 
a gentleman and was now a thief, swallowed something — 
but he had swallowed too much to choke at the threat to 
a giii in whom he had not the slightest interest. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE LOVE OF STAFFORD KINO 

I 

! Maisib White had no illusions. When the report 
came to her that the detective she had employed had 
passed his sei-vices over to the man he was engaged to 
watch, she knew that the full force of the Boundary gang 
i would be employed to her extinction. Strangely enough, 
! she did not appear to be disturbed, as she confessed to 
i Stafford King. They were lunching together at the 
Hotel Palatine, and the detective was unusually thought- 
j ful. 

; *‘'Why don't you go out of London?" he asked. 

I ** I must go on with my work, " she said. 

! “What is your work?" he asked. 

1 “I have told you once," she replied; am trying to 
' disentangle my father from disgrace. I am working to 
I put him apart when the day of reckoning comes. " 
i “You've not heard from him?" he asked. 

! She shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. 

I “He has been a good father to me," she said, “the 

I kindest and best of daddies. It is dreadful to think " 

[ Her lips quivered and she could go no further. 

^ Nor could Stafford King make matters any easier for 
I her. He knew better than she the depth of Solomon 
White's commitments. If the gang ever smashed, and 
if by good fortune the law ever took its course, there was 
93 


94 


JACK O' JUDGMENT 


no hope for Solomon White's escape from his share of 
the responsibility. 

“Why do you think your father went away?' he 
asked, to turn the subject to a new aspect. 

She did not reply instantly. 

“I think he was scared," she said after a while. I 
was shocked when I discovered how much in awe of the 
colonel he stood. He was just terrified at the threat, j 
and yet I know he would have given his life to protect i 
me from harm. I think it was just my being about that i 
spurred him on to make the plans he did. 

Stafford King agreed with a gesture. 

“Now what are we going to do about you?" he asked, 
half humorously, half seriously. cannot let you go 
wandering alone about London — I'm scared to death 
as it is." 

She smiled at him. ! 

“You had better lock me up, " she said flippantly, and i 
he nodded in the same spirit. 

“I know a little house in St. Johns Wood that would 
serve us beautifully as a prison," he said. It has ten 
rooms and two admirable bathrooms. There is central 
heating and a large shady garden, and if you will only let 
me take you before a clergyman or a justice of the 
peace " 

She shook her head. 

“That isn’t prison," she said quietly, and put out her 
hand over the table. 

He caught it in his and held it tight. 

“Maisie," he said, “you know I love you. I love you 
more dearly than anything in the world. " 

She did not speak. 


THE LOVE OF STAFFORD KING 95 


^‘As my wife/^ he went on, ^^you would be safe, and I 
should be happy. I just want you all the time.’^ 

Gently she disengaged her hand, shaking her head 
with a little smile. 

‘‘What would that mean, Stafford? she said. “You 
know you are deceiving me when you agree that my 

father Again her voice shook. “No, no!’’ she 

said. “It would ruin your career to have the daughter 
of a convict for your wife. I realize very well what it will 
mean, for I know — I know — I know!” 

“What do you know?” he asked in a low voice. 

“I know that all my work will be in vain. But I must 
go on with it. I must, or I shall go mad. I know nothing 
on earth can clear my father, but I’m not going to tell 
you that again. I just want to think there is a possibility 
that some miracle will happen, that all the evidence 
which even I have against him will be explained away. ” 

He took her unresisting hand in his, and under the 
cover of the tablecloth held it tight. 

“That is why I wanted to leave the service,” he said. 

She loc^ied at him quickly. 

“Because you thought that it would mean ruin?” 

He smiled. 

“No, not that. It would hurt you; that is all. Of 
course, if such a thing happened I would be obliged to 
resign. ” 

“And you’d never forgive yourself.” 

“I wanted to anticipate such a happening, and, 
darling, you’ve got to face the future without any other 
illusions. ” 

She winced at the word “other” but he went on, 
unnoticing: 


96 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


^‘Boundary is a tiger. If he thinks there is reason to 
fear y^u he will never let up on you till he has you in his 
grip. I tell you this,” he said earnestly, ‘^for all the 
power of the police, for all their organization and the 
backing which the law gives them, they may be helpless 
against this man if he has marked you down for punish- 
ment. ” 

‘‘I'm not afraid,” she said quietly. 

“But I am,” said he. “I'm so afraid that I'm sick 
with apprehension sometimes.” 

“Poor Stafford!” she said softly, and there was a look 
in her eyes which compensated him for much. “But you 
mustn't worry, dear. Truly, truly, you mustn’t worry. 
I'm quite capable of looking after myself. ” 

“And that's the greatest of all your illusions,” he said 
half laughingly and half irritably. “You're the meekest 
little mouse that ever came under the paw of a cat. ” 

She shook her head smilingly. 

“But I tell you I'm speaking seriously,” he went on. 
“I'll do my best to look after you. I'll have a man 
watching you day and night.” 

“But you mustn't,” she protested, “there's no; 
immediate cause for worry.” 

He saw her to the door of the restaurant and showed i 
her into the taxi-cab which came at his whistle, and she 
leaned out of the window and waved her hand in farewell i 
as she drove off. 

Two men stood on the opposite side of the road and 
watched her depart. Crewe was one, and a dark-faced 
man with a fierce mustache was the other. 

“That's the girl,” said Crewe. 

The Greek smiled broadly, unpleasantly. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE ABDUCTION OP MAISIE WHITE 

A WEEK passed without anything exceptional happen- 
ing, and Maisie White had ceased even to harbor doubts 
as to her own safety — doubts which had been present 
in spite of the courageous showing she had made before 
Stafford King. Undeterred by her previous experience, 
she had made arrangements with another and a more 
responsible detective agency and had chosen a new 
watcher, though she had small hopes of obtaining results. 
She knew his task was one of almost insuperable diffi- 
culty, and she was frank in exposing to him what those 
difficulties were. Still there was a faint chance that he 
might discover something, and moreover, she had another 
purpose to serve. 

She had seen Pinto Silva once. He had called, and she 
had noticed with surprise that the debonair, self-confi- 
dent man she had known, whose air of conscious superi- 
ority had been so annoying to her, had undergone a con- 
siderable change. He was ill at ease, almost incoherent 
at moments, and it was a long time before she could dis- 
cover his business. 

This time she received him in her tiny sitting room, for 
Pinto was somehow less alarming to her than he had been. 
Perhaps she was conscious that at the corner of the street 
stood a quietly dressed man doing nothing in particular, 
97 


98 


JACK JUDGMENT. 


who was relieved at the eighth hour by an even less 
obtrusive-looking gentleman from Scotland Yard. 

She waited for Pinto to disclose his business, but 
the Portuguese was apparently in no hurry to do so. 
Presently he blurted it out. 

''Look here, Maisie,” he said. "You’ve got things all 
wrong. Things are going to be very rotten for you 
unless — unless ” He floundered. 

"Unless what?” she asked. 

Unless you make up with me, ” he said in a low voice. 

I m not so bad, Maisie, and I’ll treat you fair. I’ve 
always been in love with you. ” 

"Stop,” she said quietly. "I dare say it is a great 
honor for a girl that any man should be in love with her, 
but it takes away a little of the compliment when the 
man is already married. ” 

“That’s nothing,” he said eagerly. “I can divorce her 
by the laws of my country. Maisie, she hates me, and I 
hate her.” 

No, Mr. Silva,” she replied, '^if you were single or j 
divorced, or if you were ever so eligible, I would not j 
marry you.” 

"Why not?” he demanded truculently. "I’ve got i 

money. ” ^ 

“So have I,” she said, “of a sort.” j 

“ My money’s as clean as yours, if it is Solomon White’s ( 
money. ” i 

She nodded. j 

“I’m well aware of that, too,” she said. “It is gang j 
money, isn’t it? Stolen money. I don’t see what good I 
I shall get out of exchanging mine for yours, anyway. i 
It is just as dirty. The money doesn’t come into it at all, | 


THE ABDUCTION OF MAISIE WHITE 99 


Mr. Silva — it is just liking people well enough — for 
marriage. And I don’t like you that way. ” 

You don’t like me at all,” he muttered. 

^‘You’re very nearly right.” She smiled. 

^‘You’re a fool, you’re a fool!” he exclaimed. ^'^You 
don’t know what’s coming to you. You don’t 
know. ” 

''Perhaps I do,” she said; "perhaps I can guess. But 
whatever is coming to me, as you put it, I prefer that to 
marrying you. ” 

He started back as though she had struck him across, 
the face, and his face was livid. 

"You won’t say that when — ” 

He checked himself and without another word left 
the room, and she heard his heavy feet blundering down 
the stairs. 

And then she met him again. It was two nights after. 
She met him in a horrible dream. She dreamed he was 
flying after her, that they were both birds, she a pigeon 
and he a hawk; and as she made her last desperate 
struggle to escape, she heard his hateful voice in her 
ear : 

"Maisie, it is your last chance!” 

She had gone to bed at ten o’clock that night, and it 
seemed that she had hardly fallen asleep before the vision 
came. She struggled to sit up in bed, she tried to speak, 
but a big hand was over her mouth and another was 
gripping her by her shoulder. 

"Maisie, Maisie, it is your last chance!” 

Then it was true, it was no dream. He was in the 
room, his hand upon her mouth, his voice in her ear. 
She struggled again, but he held her in a grip of iron. 


100 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


The room was in darkness. There was no sound save 
the sound of his heavy breathing and his voice. 

‘‘They^ll be up here in five minutes/' he whispered 
^‘1 can save you, I can save you, Maisie! Will you marry 
me?" 

She summoned all the strength at her command to 
shake her head. 

“You won't, eh?" 

There was a note of savagery in his voice which made 
her feel sick. 

“Keep quiet!" 

For a second the hand was withdrawn, and she filled 
her lungs to scream, but at that instant a mass of cotton 
wool was thrust over her face, and she began to breathe 
in a sickly sweet vapor. Somebody else was in the room 
now. They were holding her feet. The voice in her ear 
said: 

“Breathe. Take a deep breath!" 

She sobbed and writhed in an agony of mind, but all 
the time she was breathing, all the time she was drawing 
into her lungs the chloroform with which the wool was 
saturated. 

At two o'clock in the morning a uniformed constable, 
patrolling his beat, saw an ambulance drawn up outside 
a house in Doughty Street. He crossed the road to make 
inquiries. 

“A case of scarlet fever," said the driver. 

“You don't say," said the sympathetic constable. 

The door opened and two men walked out, carrying a 
figure in a blanket. The policeman stood by and saw 
the “patient" laid upon a stretcher and the back of the 
ambula-nco closed. Then he continued his walk to the 


THE ABDUCTION OF^ MAISIE WHITE 101 


corner of the street, where he found, huddled up in a 
doorway, the unconscious figure of a Scotland Yard 
detective, whose observation had been interrupted by a 
well-directed blow from a blackjack. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE COMMISSIONER HAS A THEORY 

From station to station throughout the night, the 
following communication was flashed: 

To all stations. Stop Ambulance Motor No. LK0.9943 
Arrest and detain driver and any person found therein. 
Warn all garages and report. Commissioner. 

Before the dawn, nine thousand policemen were on 
the lookout for the motor ambulance. 

There’s a chance, of course,” said Stafford, ^^but it 
is a poor chance. ” 

He was looking white and heavy-eyed. 

don’t know, sir,” said South wick, his subordinate. 
‘‘There’s always a chance that a crook will do the obvi- 
ously wrong thing. I suppose you’ve no theory as to 
where they have gone?” 

“Not out of town — of that I’m certain,” said King; 
“that is why the quest is so hopeless. Why, they’ll have 
reached their destination hours before the message went 
out!” 

They were standing in the girl’s bedroom, which still 
reeked with chloroform, and all the clews were piled 
together on the table. There were not many. There was 
a pad of cotton wool, a hah empty bottle of chloroform, 
bearing the label of a well-known wholesaler, and one of a 
pair of old wash-leather gloves, which had evidently been 
102 


THE COMMISSIONER HAS A THEORY 103 


worn by somebody in his desire to avoid leaving finger 
prints. 

“WeVe not much to go on there/^ said Stafford dis- 
consolately. “The chloroform may have been sold a long 
time ago. Any chemist would have supplied the cotton 

wool, and as for the glove ” He picked it up and 

looked at it, then he carried it to the light. 

Old as it was, it was of good shape and quality and 
when new had probably been supplied to order by a first- 
class glovemaker. 

“There’s nothing here,” said Stafford again, and threw 
the glove back on the table. 

A policeman came into the room and saluted. 

“I’ve cycled over from the Yard, sir. We have had a 
message asking you to go at once to Sir Stanley Relcom’s 
private house.” 

“How did Sir Stanley know about this affair?” asked 
Stafford listlessly. 

“He telephoned, sir, about five o’clock this morning. 
He often makes an early inquiry. ” 

" Stafford looked round. There was nothing more that 
he could do. He passed down the stairs into the street 
and jumped on to the motor cycle which had brought him 
to the scene. 

Sir Stanley Relcom lived in Cavendish Place, and 
Stafford had been a frequent visitor to the house. Sir 
Stanley was a widower, who was wont to complain that 
he kept up his huge establishment in order to justify the 
employment of his huge staff of servants. Stafford 
suspected him of being something of a sybarite. His 
dinners were famous, his cellar was the best in liondon, 
and because of his acquaintances and friendships in the 


104 JACK O’ JUDGMENT 

artistic sets, he was something of a dabbler in the arts 
he patronized. 

The door was opened, and an uncomfortable-looking 
butler was waiting on the step to receive Stafford. 

“You’ll find Sir Stanley in the library, sir,” he said. 

Despite his sorrow, Stafford could not help smiling at 
this attempt on the part of an English servant to offer 
the conventional greeting in spite of the hour. 

“I’m afraid we’ve got you up early, Perkins,” he said. 

“Not at all, sir.” 

The man’s stout face creased in a smile. 

“Sir Stanley often gets up in the middle of the night 
and orders a meal.” 

Stafford found his gray-haired chief, arrayed in a 
flowered silk dressing gown, balancing breaa on an 
electric toaster. 

“Bad news, eh, Stafford?” he said. “Sit down and 
have some coffee. The girl is gone?” 

Stafford nodded. 

“And our unfortunate detective-constable* who was 
sent to watch is half-way to the mortuary, I presume?” 

“Not eo bad as that, sir,” said Stafford, “but he got a 
pretty bad knock. He’s recovered consciousness but 
remembers nothing that happened.” 

Sir Stanley nodded. 

“ Very scientifically done, ” he said admiringly. “ This, 
of course, is the work of the Boundary gang. ” 

“I wish ” began Stafford between his teeth. 

“Save your breath, my friend” — Sir Stanley smiled — 
“wishing will do nothing. You could arrest every known 
member of the gang, and they’d have twenty alibis ready, 
and very good alibis, too. It is years since the colonel 


THE COMMISSIONER HAS A THEORY 105 


staged an outrage of this kind, but his right hand has not 
lost its cunning. 

^‘Look at the organization of it! The men get into the 
house withut attracting the attention of your watcher. 
Then, at the exact second that the ambulance is due, 
along comes their thug and knocks down the policeman 
on duty. I donT suppose the thing took more than ten 
minutes. Everything was timed. They must have 
known the hour the policeman on the beat passed along 
the street.’^ 

Sir Stanley poured out the coffee with his own hands, 
and relapsed back into his armchair. 

“ Why do you think they did it? 

“They were afraid of her, sir,” said Stafford. 

Sir Stanley laughed softly. 

“I can’t imagine Boundary being afraid of a girl.” 

“She was Solly White’s daughter,” said Stafford. 

“Even then I can’t understand it,” replied the chief, 
“unless — by Jove. Of course.” 

He hit his knee a smack, and Stafford waited. 

“Probably they’ve got some other game on; but I’ll 
tell you one of the ideas of taking that girl — it is to 
bring back Solomon White. He disappeared, didn’t he? ” 

Stafford nodded. 

“That’s the game — to bring back Solomon White. 
And whatever is the danger to himself, he’ll be in London 
tomorrow, as soon as this news is known.” Sir Stanley 
sat with his chin in his hand, thinking, his forehead 
wrinkled in thought. “There’s some other reason, too. 
Now, what is it?” 

Stafford guessed, but did not say. 

“ That girl will take some recovering before harm comes 


106 


JACK O' JUDGMENT 


to her, " said Sir Stanley softly. Your only hope is that 
friend Jack comes to your rescue. ” 

^‘Jack o' Judgment?" 

Sir Stanley nodded, and the other smiled sadly. 

‘‘That's unlikely," he said; “indeed, it is impossible. 
I think I might as well tell you my own theory as to why 
she was abducted and why Boundary took so much 
trouble to capture her." 

“What is your theory?" asked Sir Stanley curiously. 

“My theory, sir, is, that she is Jack o' Judgment," 
said Stafford King. 

“She — Jack o' Judgment?" Sir Stanley was on his 
feet, staring at him. “Impossible! It is a man. " 

“You seem to forget sir," said Stafford, “that Miss 
White is a wonderful mimic. " - 

“But why?" 

“She wants to clear her father. She told me that 
only a week ago. And then I've been making inquiries 
on my own account. I found that she was seen coming 
out of the Albermarle mansions the night that ‘Jack' made 
his last visit to Boundary's flat. " 

Sir Stanley rose. 

“Wait, " he said, and left the room. 

Presently he came back. 

“If Miss White is Jack o' Judgment, and if she was 
captured tonight, how do you account for this? It was 
under my pillow when I woke up." 

He laid on the table the familiar jack of clubs. 


CHAPTER XVI 


IN THE TURKISH BATHS 

Colonel Boundary had a breakfast party of three. 
Though he had been up the whole of the night, he showed 
no signs of weariness. Not so Pinto or Crewe, who seemed 
tired out, and were all the more weary looking because 
they were both conspicuously unshaven. 

^‘Half the game’s won,” said the colonel. We’ll get 
rid of this girl and Solly White by the same stroke. I’m 
afraid of Solly — he knows too much. By the way, Raoul 
is coming over.” 

Raoul!” said Crewe, sitting up suddenly. ^^Why, 
colonel, you’re crazy! Didn’t the Scotland Yard man 
say ” 

“That he suspected a French hand in the case of Snow 
Gregory? All the more reason why Raoul should come, ” 
said the colonel calmly. “He ought to report this 
morning. ” 

“You’re taking a risk,” muttered Pinto. 

“Nothing unusual,” replied the colonel, shelling a 
plover’s egg; “it is the last thing in the world they would 
suspect at Scotland Yard after their warning, that I 
should bring Raoul over again. Besides, they don’t 
know him anyway. He’s just a harmless young French 
cabinet maker. He doesn’t talk, and I will get him*out of 
the silly habit of leaving his visiting card. ” 

There was a silence, which Crewe broke. 

107 


108 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


You want him for ” 

He dii. not finish the sentence. 

''For work/' replied the colonel. "It is a thousand 
pities, but it would be a thousand times a thousand 
pities if you and I were arrested and waiting in the con- 
demned cell for the arrival of the eminent hangman. 
Raoul’s a workman. We can trust him. He doesn’t try 
any funny business. He lives out of this country, and 
I can cover his tracks. Besides,” the colonel went on, 
"I shall give him enough to live in comfort for the next 
two years. Raoul is a grateful little beast, and, thank 
goodness he can neither read nor write. ” 

"I don’t like it,” said Crewe; "I hate that kind of 
thing. Why not give Solly a chance? Why not get up a 
fight — a duel, anything but murder? ” 

The colonel turned his cold eyes upon the other, and 
his lips parted in a mirthless smile. 

" You’re speaking up to your character now, aren’t you, 
Crewe?” he said unpleasantly. "You’re 'Gentleman 
Crewe’ once again, eh? Want to do everything in the 
correct fashion? Well, you cut out all that stuff. I’m 
Dan Boundary, looking forward to a pleasant old age. 
There’s nothing of the Knights of the Round Table about 
me.” 

Crewe flushed. 

"All right,” he said; "have it your own way.” 

"You bet your life I’m going to have it my own way, ” 
said the colonel. "Have you seen the girl this morninff 
Pinto?” 

Pinto shook his head. 

“You’U keep away from there for a couple of days. 
I’ve got Boyton on the spot, and he’ll be feeding her 


IN THE TURKISH BATHS 


109 


with bromide till she wonT care where she is. Besides, 
we’ll all be shadowed for the next day or two. Make no 
mistake about that. Stafford King won’t let the grass 
grow under his feet. And now go home and try to look 
as though you’ve had a night’s rest. ” 

After their departure the colonel made his own prep- 
arations. There were Turkish baths in Westminster, 
and it was to the Turkish baths he went. Clad in a 
towel, he passed from hot room to hot room, and finally 
came to the big, vaulted saloon, tiled from floor to roof, 
where in canvas-backed chairs the bathers dozed and 
read. The colonel lay back in his chair, his eyes closed, 
apparently oblivious to his surroundings. Nor was it to 
be observed that he saw the thin little man who came and 
sat beside him. The newcomer was sallow-skinned and 
lantern-jawed, and his long arms were tattooed from 
shoulder to wrist. 

“Here!” said a soft voice in French. 

The colonel did not open his eyes. He merely dropped 
the palm fan which he was waving idly to and fro, so that 
it hid his mouth. 

“Do you remember a Mr. White?” he said in the same 
tone. 

“Perfectly, ” replied the other. “He was the man who 
would not have your little ‘snow’ friend — disposed of. ” 

“That is the man, ” said the other. “You have a good 
memory, Raoul.” 

“Monsieur, my memory is wonderful, but, alas! one 
cannot live on memory, ” he added sen tent iously. 

“Then remember this: There is a place near London 
called Putney Heath.” 

“Putney Heath,” repeated the other. 


110 


JACK JUDGMENT 


There is a house called Bishopsholme/' 

“Bishopsholme/^ repeated the other. 

‘^It is empty — to let, you understand? It is in a sad 
state of desolation. The garden, the house — you know 
the kind of place? 

^‘Perfectly, monsieur.’’ 

At nine o’clock to-night and at nine o’clock tomorrow 
night you will be near the door. There is a large clump 
of bushes, behind which you will stand. You will stay, 
there until ten. Between those hours Mr. White will 
approach and go into the house. You understand?” 

‘‘Perfectly, monsieur,” said the voice again. 

“You will shoot him so that he dies immediately.” 

“He is a dead man,” said the other. 

There was a long pause. 

“I will pay you sixty thousand francs, and I will have 
a motor car to take you directly to Dover. You will 
catch the night boat for Ostend. Your passports will 
be in order, and you can make your way to Paris at your 
leisure. The payment you will receive in Paris. Is that 
satisfactory? ” 

“Eminently so, monsieur,” said the other. “I need a 
little for expenses for the moment. Also I wish informa- 
tion as to where the motor car will meet me. ” 

“It will be waiting for you at the corner of the first 
road past the house, on the way from London. You will 
in fact, pass it on your way to the house. You will not 
speak to the chauffeur and he will not speak to you. 
In the car you will find sufficient money for your imme- 
diate needs. Is there any necessity to explain 
further?” 

“None, whatever, monsieur,” said the soft voice, and 


IN THE TURKISH BATHS 111 

Raoul dropped his head on one side as though he were 
sleeping. 

As for the colonel, he did not simulate slumber, but 
passed into dreamland, sleeping quietly and calmly, with 
a look of benevolence upon his big face. 

The only other occupant of the cooling room, a big- 
framed man who was reading a newspaper, closed his eyes, 
too — but he did not sleep. 


CHAPTER XVII 


SOLOMON COMES BACK 

At nine o’clock that night the colonel, in immaculate 
evening dress, sat playing double-dummy bridge with his 
two companions. In the light of the big shaded lamp 
overhead there was something particularly peaceful and 
innocent in their occupation. No word was spoken save 
of the game. 

It was a quarter to nine, noted the colonel, looking at 
the little French clock on the mantelpiece. He rose, 
walked to the window and looked out. It was a stormy 
night and the wind was howling down the street, sending 
the rain in noisy splashes against the windowpanes. He 
grumbled his satisfaction and returned to the table. 

‘^Did you see the paper?” asked Pinto presently. 

saw the paper,” said the colonel, not looking up 
from his hand. “I make a point of reading the news- 
papers. ” 

“You see they’ve made a feature of ” 

“Mention no names,” said the colonel. “I know 
theyVe made a feature about it. So much the better. 
Everything depends ” 

It was as he spoke that Solomon White came into the 
room. Boundary knew it was he before the door handle 
turned, before the hum of voices in the hall outside had 
ceased, but it was with a great pretense of surprise that 
he looked up. 


112 


SOLOMON COMES BACK 


113 


‘^Why, if it isn’t Solomon White!” he said. 

The man was haggard and sick looking. He had 
f evidently dressed in a hurry, for his cravat was ill tied 
and the collar gaped. He strode slowly up to the table, 

, and Boundary’s manservant, with a little grin, closed the 
door. 

“Where have you been all this time, Solomon?” asked 
Boundary genially. “Sit down and play a hand.” 

“You know why I’ve come,” breathed Solomon 
White. 

“Surely I know why you’ve come. You’ve come to 
explain where you’ve been, old boy. Sit down,” said 
Boundary. 

“Where is my daughter?” asked White. 

“Where is your daughter?” repeated the colonel. 

I “Well, that’s a queer question to ask us. We’ve been 
saying, ‘Where is Solomon White?’ all this time.” 

“I’ve been to Brighton,” said the man, “but that’s 
j nothing to do with jt. . . . 

I “ Been at Brighton? A very pleasant place, too, ” said 
! Boundary. “And what were you doing at Brighton?” 

“Keeping out of your way,” said White fiercely, 

I “trying to cure the fear of you which has made a rank 
coward of me! If you wanted to find a method for curing 
I me, colonel, you’ve found it. I’ve come back for my 
I daughter. Where is she?” 

The colonel pushed his chair back from the table and 
looked up with a quizzical smile. 

“Now you’re not going to take it hard, Solomon,” he 
said. “We had to have you back and that was the only 
scheme we could think of. You see, there are lots of httle 
bits of business that have to be cleared up, business in 


114 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


which you had a hand the same as my other business 
associates. ” 

Where is the girl?” asked the man steadily. 

*‘WeU, I’m going to admit to you,” said the colonel 
with a fine show of frankness, ^Hhat I’ve put her away. 
No harm has come to her, you understand. She’s at a 
little place at Putney Heath, a house I took specially 
for her, surrounded by loving guardians. ” 

‘^Like Pinto?” asked the man, looking down at the 
silent Silva. 

*^Like LoUie. Now you can’t deny that Lollie’s a very 
nice girl,” said the colonel. ‘^Sit down, Solomon, and 
talk things over.” 

^^When I’ve got my girl I’ll talk things over with you. 
Where is this place?” 

“It is on Putney Heath,” said the colonel. “Now am 
I not being straightforward with you? If I had any bad 
designs against the girl should I tell you where she is? 
If you go there, Solomon, take some of your police 
friends. ” 

“I have no police friends,” said the man angrily; 
“you know it well enough. What am I that I should go 
to the police? Can I go to them with clean hands? ” 
“Well, that’s a question I’ve often asked myself,” 

said the colonel. “I’ve often said ” 

^‘What is the name of the house?” interrupted White, 
want to see whether you’re playing square with me. 

Boundary, and if you’re not, by ” 

“Don’t threaten me, don’t threaten me, Solomon,” 
said the colonel with a good-humored gesture; “I’m a 
nervous man and I suffer from heart disease. You ought 
to know better than that. Bishopsholme is the place. 


SOLOMON COMES BACK 


115 


It is the fourth big house after passing Tredennis Road — 
a fine villa standing in its own grounds. It looks a bit 
deserted because it was empty until a few days ago, 
when I put a scrap or two of furniture into it. Why not 
wait ” 

“Fhst I’ll find whether you’re speaking the truth, and 
if you’re not ” 

“Stay a while,” said Boundary, “it is only just 
nine ’ ’ 

But White was gone. 

He pushed past the servant, one of the readiest and 
most dangerous of the colonel’s instruments, and into 
the half-dark corridor. There was a light on the landing 
below, and as he ran down the stairs he thought he saw 
I somebody standing there. It looked like a woman, till 
the figure turned, and then Solomon White stood stock- 
still. It was the first time he had seen Jack o’ Judgment. 
The shimmer of the black silk coat, the curious suggestion 
of pallor which the white mask conveyed, the slouch hat, 
throwing a black bar of shadow diagonally across the 
face, lent the figure a peculiarly sink ter aspect, 
i “Stand!” 

The voice was commanding, the glittering revolver in 
the figure’s hand more so. 

“Who are you?” gasped Solomon White. 

“Jack o’ Judgment! Have you ever heard of little 
i Jack?” 

The figure chuckled. “Oh, here’s a new one — 
Solomon White, too, and never heard of Jack o’ Judg- 
ment! Didn’t you see me when they took me out of 
: Snow Gregory’s pocket? Little Jack o’ Judgment!” 

Solomon White stepped back, his face twitching. 


4 

116 JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 

had nothing to do with that,” he said hoarsely; 
“nothing to do with that, do you hear?^^ 

“Where are you going? Won’t you tell Jack some- 
thing, give him a bit of news? Poor old Jack hears 
nothing these days.” The figure sighed, laughter bub- 
bling between the words. 

“I’m going on private business. Get out of my way, ” 
said the other, remembering the urgency of his mission. 

“But you’ll tell Jack o’ Judgment?” wheedled the 
figure. “You’ll tell poor old Jack where you are going 
to find your beautiful daughter? ” 

“You know!” said the man. 

He took a step forward, but the revolver waved him 
back. 

“You’ll speak or you don’t pass,” said Jack o’ Judg- 
ment. “You don’t pass until you speak. Do you hear, 
Solomon White?” 

The man thought. 

“It is a place called Bishopsholme, ” he said gruffly 
“on Putney Heath. Now let me pass.” 

“Wait, wait ! ” said the figure eagerly. “Wait for me — 
only five minutes. I won’t keep you! But don’t go! 
There’s death there, Solomon White! It is waiting for 
you. Don’t you feel it in your bones?” 

The voice sank to a whisper, and in spite of himself a 
cold shiver passed down White’s spine. He half turned 
to go back. 

“Wait ! ” said the figure again eagerly, fiercely. “ I shall 
keep you but a minute — a second!” 

Solomon White stood irresolutely, and the mask 
seemed to melt into the darkness. White strained his 
ears to hear the soft patter of its shoes as it mounted 


SOLOMON COMES BACK 


117 


1 

I the stairs, but no sound came. Then with a start he 
j seemed to awake as if from a bad dream, and without 
i a word strode down the remaining stairs into the night. 

On the landing above, the strange being who called 
himself “Jack o’ Judgment” stood outside the door of 
Boundary’s flat. He had taken a key from his pocket 
j and had it poised, when he heard the clatter of the other’s 
feet. He stood undecidedly, but only for a second; then 
:| the key slipped into the lock and the door opened. The 
I butler from his little pantry saw the figure and slammed 
his own door, bolting it with trembling fingers. 

[ In a second Jack o’ Judgment was in the room, facing 
[ the paralyzed trio. 

He spoke no word, but suddenly his right arm was 
raised, some shining object flew from his hand and there 
was a crash of glass and instantly a vile odor. On the 
opposite wall, where the bottle had broken, appeared a 
dark and irregular stain. 

Then, without so much as a laugh, he stepped back 
through the door and raced down the stairs in pursuit of 
White. It was too late; the man had disappeared. Jack 
o’ Judgment stood for a moment listening, then he slipped 
off the black coat and ripped off the mask. The coat was 
of the finest silk, for he rolled it into the space of a pocket 
handkerchief and slipped it into his pocket. The hand- 
kerchief went the same way. If there had been observers 
i they would have caught a glimpse of a man in evening 
i dress as he went swiftly down the half lighted stairway. 

' He turned and walked in the shadow of the building 
i and passed down a side street, where a big closed limou- 
I sine was awaiting him. He gave a murmured direction 
1 to the driver, and the car sped on its way. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE JUDGMENT OF DEATH 

Solomon White had a taxi waiting and gave his 
directions. He was sufficiently loyal to the band to avoid 
calling especial attention to the house where the girl was 
imprisoned, and he told his cab to wait at the end of 
Putney Heath. The night was wild and boisterous and 
very dark, but he carried an electric torch, and presently 
he came to weather-stained gates bearing in letters, which 
had half faded, the name he sought. He pushed open the 
gate with some trouble. There was a curving carriage 
drive which led to the front door, which stood at the head 
of a flight of steps under a square and ugly portico. 

He looked up at the building, but it was in darkness. 
Apparently it was empty, but he knew enough of the 
coloneks methods to be sure that Boundary would not 
advertise the presence of the girl to the outside world. 

He stood hesitating, wondering. The whole thing 
might be a trap, but Solomon White was not easily scared. 
He took a revolver from his pocket, drew back the 
hammer and walked forward cautiously. There was no 
sign of life. The rustling of shrubs and trees was the only 
mournful sound which varied the roar of the storm. 

He was opposite the door, and one foot was raised to 
surmount the first step, when there came a soimd like 
the sharp tap of a drum. 

“Rap, rap!” 


118 


THE JUDGMENT OF DEATH 


119 


Solomon White stood for fully a second before he 
crumpled and fell, and he was dead before he reached the 
ground. 

Still there was no sign or sound of life. A church clock 
boomed out the quarter to ten. A motor car went past, 
and then the laurel bushes by the side of the steps moved, 
and a man in a black mackintosh stepped out. He bent 
over the dead man, picked up the fallen torch and flashed 
the light on the dead man’s face; then, with a grunt of 
satisfaction, Raoul Pontarlier unscrewed his silencer and 
slipped his automatic into the wet pocket of his mackin- 
tosh. 

Feeling in an inside pocket for a cigarette, he found one 
and lit it from the smouldering end of a tinder lighter. 
Then, carefully concealing the lighted cigarette in the 
palm of his hand, he walked softly and noiselessly down 
the drive, keeping to the shadow of the bushes and watch- 
ing to left and right for signs of approaching pedestrians. 
At two points he could see the heath road, and nobody 
was in sight. There was plenty of time, and men had 
been ruined by haste. He reached the gate and carefully 
looked over. The road was deserted. His hand was on 
the gate when something cold and hard was pushed 
against his ear and he turned round. 

‘‘Put up your hands!” said a mocking voice. “Put 
them up!” 

The Frenchman’s hands slowly rose. 

“Now turn round and face the house. Quick!” said 
the voice, ^‘marchez! Halt!” 

Raoul stopped. If he could only get his hands down 
and duck, one lightning dive . 

His captor evidently read his' thoughts, for he felt a 


120 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


hand slip into his mackintosh pocket and he was relieved 
of the weight of his automatic. 

^‘Go forward, up the steps. Stop!’’ 

The stranger had seen the huddled figure of White, and 
stooped over him. He made no comment. He knew the 
man was dead before his hands had touched him. 

“Mount the steps, canaille!’^ said the voice; and 
Raoul walked slowly up the steps of the house and halted 
with his face against the door. 

A hand came up under his uplifted arm and sought 
the keyhole. A few minutes^ fumbling until the prongs of 
the skeleton key had found its corresponding wards, 
and then the door swung open, emitting a scent of musti- 
ness and decay. 

‘^Marchez!” said the stranger, and Raoul walked 
forward and heard the door slam behind him. 

The house was not empty, in the sense that it was 
unfurnished. The unknown was using an electric torch of 
extraordinary brilliancy, and revealed a dilapidated 
hallstand and a musty chair. He took a brief survey 
and then said: “Down those stairs and the murderer 
obeyed. 

They were in the kitchen now, and again the bright 
light gleamed about. The windows were heavily shut- 
tered, the grate was rusty, and a few old pieces of china | 
on the sideboard were dirty. There was a gas bracket in ' 
the center, over a large deal table, and this the stranger | 
turned on. He heard the hiss of escaping gas, struck a j 
match and lit it, and then for the first time Raoul gazed 
in fear and astonishment upon the man who held him. I 

“Monsieur,” he stammered, “who are you?'* 

The masked figure slipped his hand into his pocket 


THE JUDGMENT OF DEATH 


121 


and flicked a card upon the table, and Raoul, looking 
down, saw the jack of clubs and knew that his end was 
I near. 

* * 

I For three hours the Frenchman had lain on the floor, 
tied hand and foot, a gag in his mouth, and the clocks 
were striking two when Jack o’ Judgment came back. 
This time he wore neither mask nor coat, but over his arm 
he carried a coil of fine rope. Raoul watched him, fasci- 
nated, as he walked about the kitchen, whistling softly 
to himself, and now and again breaking into song. 

“Monsieur, monsieur,” blubbered the terrified man, 
“I would make a confession. I will make a statement 
before the judge.” 

Jack o’ Judgment smiled. 

“You shall make a statement before your judge, for I 
am he,” he said, “and I think this is the place.” 

He glanced up at the high roof of the kitchen, for there 
was a stout hook, where in old times heavy sides of bacon 
hung. He drew the table under the place and put a chair 
I on top. Then he mounted, and with a skillful cast of his 
i rope caught the hook and drew the rope slowly through. 

; He did not move the table or take any notice of the man 

i on the floor but stood as a workman might stand who 

I was calculating distances, and all the time he whistled 

I softly. 

“Monsieur, monsieur, spare me! I will make repara- 
tion!” 

“You speak truly,” said the other, without taking his 
eyes from the rope, “for it is reparation you make this 
night for two dead men, and Heaven knows how many 
besides. ” 


122 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


^*Two?” 

The murderer twisted his head. 

'‘For a man called Gregory particularly,” said Jack 

Judgment, "shot down like a mad dog.” 

"I was paid to do it. I knew nothing against him. 
I had no malice in my heart, ” said the man eagerly. 

"Nor have I,” said Jack o’ Judgment, "for behold! 
I shall kill you without passion, as a warning to all 
villains of all nationalities.” 

"This is against the law,” whined the man, beads of 
sweat standing on his forehead; "give me a knife and 
let me fight you, you coward!” 

" Give Solomon White a pistol and let him fight you, ” 
said the other. "It is against the law — well I know it. 
But it is much more speedy than the law, my little 
cabbage!” 

He was busy making a slipknot at one end of the rope, 
and presently he had finished it to his satisfaction. 

"Raoul Pontarlier,” he said, "this is a moment for 
which I have waited many years.” 

The man screamed and twisted his head, but the 
noose was about his neck and tightening. Then with a 
wrench Jack o’ Judgment jerked him to his feet. 

"On to the table,” he said sternly; "mount! It is 
quicker so!” 

"I will not, I will not!” yelled the Frenchman. His 
voice rose to a shrill scream. "Help!” 

Half an hour later Jack o’ Judgment came down the 
dark path, stopping only for a second to look down upon 
the figure of Solomon White. 

"God have mercy on you all!” he said soberly, and 
passed into the night. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE COLONEL IS SHOCKED 

‘^The Putney mystery/^ said the Daily Megaphone, 
‘^surpasses any of recent years in its sensational char- 
acter. There is a touch of the bizarre in this grim spec- 
tacle of the dead man at the door of the empty house 
and the swaying figure of his murderer hanging in the 
kitchen, with no other mark of identification than a 
playing card pinned to his breast. 

‘‘The tragedy can be reconstructed up to a point. 
Mr. White was evidently killed in the garden by the 
Frenchman who was found hanging. The automatic 
pistol in his pocket, which had recently been discharged 
might support this theory, even if the police had not 
found tracks of his feet in the laurels. But who hanged 
the man Raoul with a hangman’s rope? That is the 
supreme mystery of all. The Putney police can offer 
no information on the subject, and Scotland Yard is as 
reticent. The circumstances of the discovery are as fol- 
lows: At three o’clock on the morning of the fourth. 
Police Constable Robinson, who was patrolling his beat, 
entered the garden, as is customary when houses are 
empty, to see if any doors had been forced. There has 
been an epidemic of burglaries in the region of Putney 
Heath during the past two or three months, and the 
police are exercising unusual vigilance in relation to 
123 


124 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


these hous'es. The constable might not have made his 
inspection that night but for the fact that the garden 
gate had been left wide open/^ 

Here followed an account of how the body was found, 
and how further investigation led the constable to the 
kitchen to make his second gruesome discovery. 

Colonel Boundary folded up the paper slowly and put 
it down. He had bought a copy of an early edition of 
the evening newspaper as he was stepping into his car, 
and now he was driving slowly through the park. He lit a 
cigar and gazed stolidly from the window. But his face 
showed no sign of mental perturbation. 

The car had made the circuit of the park twice when, 
turning again by Marble Arch, he saw Crewe standing 
on the sidewalk. A word to his chauffeur, and the 
machine drew up. 

''Come in,” he said curtly, and the other obeyed. 

The hand that he lifted to take his cigarette from his 
lips trembled, and the colonel eyed him with quiet 
amusement. 

"They’ve got you rattled, too, have they?” he said. 

"It is awful!” said Crewe. "Awful!” 

"What’s awful about it?” asked the colonel. "White’s 
dead, ain’t he? And Raoul’s dead, ain’t he? Two men 
who might talk and give a lot of trouble. ” 

"What did he say before he died? That’s what I’ve 
been thinking. What did he say?” 

"Who — Raoul?” demanded the colonel. He had 
asked himself the same question before. "What could 
he say? Anyway, if he had a statement to make, and his 
statement was worth taking, why, he’d be alive today! 
Raoul was the one witness that they wanted, if they 


THE COLONEL IS SHOCKED 


125 


only knew it. TheyVe bungled pretty badly, whoever 
they are.” 

'‘This Jack o' Judgment,” quavered Crewe, his mouth 
working, "who is he? What is he?” 

"How do I know?” retorted the colonel. "You ask 
me these fool questions — do you expect a reply? They’re 
dead and that’s done with. I’d sooner he killed Raoul 
than made a mess of my room. The smell — phew!” 

"Why did he do it?” asked Crewe. 

The colonel growled something about fools and their 
questions, but offered no explanation. 

"It may have been a monkey trick to make us change 
our quarters — the stuff was sulphurated hydrogen and 
asafetida. It may have been just bravado, but if he 
thinks he can scare me ” 

He sucked viciously at his cigar butt. 

"I’ve got workmen in to strip the walls and repaper the 
part that’s soiled, ” he said. " I’ll be back there tonight. ” 

The colonel threw the end of his cigar from the window 
and relapsed into moody reverie. When he spoke it was in 
a more cheerful tone. 

"Crewe,” he said, "that guy at Scotland Yard has 
given me an idea.” 

"Which guy?” asked Crewe, steadying his voice. 

"The first commissioner,” said the colonel, lighting 
another cigar. "He particularly wanted to know if Snow 
had any relations. Curse Snow!” he said between his 
teeth and dropping his mask of urbanity. "I wish 

he’d Well, it doesn’t matter; he’s dead anyway — 

he’s dead.” 

‘‘Relations?” said Crewe. "Did you tell him any- 
thing? ” 


126 


JACK O' JUDGMENT 


told him all I knew and that was very little," said 
the colonel, “but it struck me that Sir Stanley knows 
much more about this fellow Snow than we do. At any 
rate, somebody's been making inquiries, and I guess that 
somebody is the fellow who settled Raoul." 

“Jack o' Judgment?" 

“Jack o' Judgment," repeated the colonel grimly. 
“You brought Snow Gregory into the gang. What do 
you know about him?" 

Crewe shook his head. 

“Very little," he said. “I met him in Monte Carlo. 
He was down and out. He seemed a likely fellow — 
educated, a gentleman and all that sort of thing — 
and when I found that he’d hit the dope, I thought he’d 
be the kind of man you might want. " 

The colonel nodded. 

“He never talked about his relations. The only thing 
I know was that he had a father or an uncle who was in 
India, and I gathered that he had forged his name to a 
bill. When I arrived in Monte Carlo he was spending the 
money as fast as he could. I guess that was why he called 
himself Gregory, for I’m sure it wasn’t his name. " 

“You’re sure he never spoke of a brother?" 

“Never," said Crewe; “he never talked about himself 
at all. He was generally under the influence of dope or was 
recovering from it. " 

The colonel pushed back his hat and rubbed his 
forehead. 

“ There must be some way of identifying him, " he said. 
“He came from Oxford, you say?" 

“Yes, I know that," said Crewe; “he spoke of it 
once." 


THE COLONEL IS SHOCKED 


127 


“What house in Oxford? There are several colleges, 
aren’t there?” 

“From Balliol,” said Swell Crewe; “I distinctly 
remember him talking about Balliol.” 

“What year would that be?” 

Crewe reflected. 

“He left college two years before I met him at Monte 
Carlo, ” he said, “ that would be . ” He gave the year. 

“Well, it is pretty simple,” said the colonel. “Send 
a man to Oxford and get the names of all the men who 
left Balliol in that year. Find out how many you can 
trace, and I dare say that will narrow the search down 
to two or three men. Now get after this at once, Crewe. 
Spare no expense. If it costs half a million, I’m goinjr to 
discover who Mr. Jack o’ Judgment is, when he’s at 
home. ” 

He dismissed Crewe and gave fresh instructions to his 
driver, and ten minutes later he was stepping out of his 
limousine at the entrance to Scotland Yard. 

Stafford King was not in, or at any rate was not 
available. Greatly daring, the colonel sent his card to the 
first commissioner. Sir Stanley Belcom read the name 
and raised his eyebrows. 

“Show him in,” he said; and for the second time the 
colonel was ushered into the presence of the chief. 

“Well, colonel,” said Sir Stanley, “this is rather a 
dreadful business. ” 

“Terrible, terrible!” said the colonel, shaking his head. 
“Solomon White was one of my best friends. I’ve been 
searching for him for weeks. ” 

“So I’ve heard,” said Sir Stanley dryly. “Have you 
any theory?” 


128 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


“None whatever.” 

“What about this man called Raoul? Is he unknown 
to you?” asked Sir Stanley. 

“That’s what I’ve come to see you about, sir,” said 
the colonel in a confidential tone. “You remember the 
last time I was here you suggested that possibly the 
murderer of poor Gregory might be a Frenchman. You 
remember how you told me that these French assassins 
have a trick of leaving some fantastic card or sign of 
their handiwork?” 

Sir Stanley nodded. 

“Well, here you have the same thing repeated,” said 
the colonel triumphantly, “and the identical card. Do 
you think, sir, that the murderer of my poor friend 
Gregory and my poor friend. White, was the same man?” 

“In fact, Raoul?” asked Sir Stanley. 

The colonel nodded, and for a few moments Sir Stanley 
communed with his well-kept finger nails. 

“I don’t think it will do any harm if I tell you that is 
my theory also. Colonel Boundary,” he said, “and, 
giving confidence for confidence, would you have any 
objection to telling me whether Raoul is one of your — 
er — business associates?” 

There was just the slightest shade of irony in the last 
two words, but the colonel preferred to ignore it. 

“I’m very glad you asked me that question, sir,” he 
said with a sigh, so palpably a sigh of relief that the 
recording angel might be excused if he were deceived. 
“I have never seen Raoul before. In fact, my knowledge 
of Frenchmen is a very small one. I do very little busi- 
ness in France, and I certainly do no business at all with 
men of that class.” 


THE COLONEL IS SHOCKED 


129 


‘^What class? asked the other quickly. 

The colonel shrugged his big shoulders. 

“I am only going on what the newspapers say,” he 
said; ‘‘they suggest that this man is an apache.” 

“You do not know him?” asked Sir Stanley after a 
pause. 

“I have never seen him in my life,” said the colonel. 

Again Sir Stanley examined his finger nails as though 
searching for some flaw. 

“Then you will be surprised to learn,” he drawled 
at last, “that you sat next to him in the cooling room 
of the Yildiz Turkish Baths.” 

The colonePs heart missed a beat, but he did not flinch. 

“You surprise me,” he said. “I have only been to the 
Turkish Baths once during the past three months, and 
that was yesterday.” 

Sir Stanley nodded. 

“According to my information, which was supplied to 
me by my very able assistant, Mr. Stafford King, that 
was also the morning when Raoul was seen to enter 
that building.” 

“And he sat next to me?” said the colonel incredu- 
lously. 

“He sat next to you,” said Sir Stanley, with evidence 
of enjoyment. 

“Well, that is the most amazing coincidence,” 
exclaimed the . olonel, “I have ever met with in my life! 
To imagine that that scoundrel sat shoulder to shoulder 
with me — good heavens! It makes me hot to think 
about it. ” 

'‘I was afraid it would,” said the first commissioner. 

He pressed the bell, and his secretary came in. 


130 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


^‘See if Mr. Stafford King is in the building and tell 
him to come to me, please,” he said. ^^You see, colonel, 
we were hoping that you would supply us with a great 
deal of very useful information. We naturally thought it 
was something more than a coincidence that this man 
and you should foregather at a Turkish bath — a most 
admirable rendezvous, by the way.” 

^‘You may accept my word of honor,” said Colonel 
Boundary impressively, “that I had no more idea of that 
man’s presence, or of his identity, or of his very existence 
than you had. ” 

Stafford King came in at that moment, and the colonel, 
noting the haggard face and the look of care in the dark- 
lined eyes, felt a certain amount of satisfaction. 

“I’ve just been telling the colonel about his meeting 
in the Turkish baths,” said Sir Stanley. “I suppose 
there is no doubt at all as to that happening?” 

“None whatever, sir,” said Stafford shortly. “Both 
the colonel and this man were seen by Sergeant Living- 
stone. ” 

“The colonel suggests that it was a coincidence, and 
that he had never spoken to the man,” said Sir Stanley. 
“What do you say to that. King?” 

Stafford King’s lips curled. 

“If the colonel says so, of course it must be true.” 

“Sarcasm never worries me,” said the colonel. “I’m 
always getting into trouble and I’m always getting out 
again. Give a dog a bad name and ” 

He stopped. There arose in his mind a mental picture 
of a man swinging in an underground kitchen, and in 
spite of his self-control he shuddered. 

“And hang him, eh?” said Sir Stanley. “Now, I’m 


THE COLONEL IS SHOCKED 


131 


going to put matters to you very plainly, colonel. There 
have been three or four very unpleasant happenings. 
There has been the death of the chief witness for the 
1 crown against you; there has been the death of this 
I unhappy man White, who was closely associated with 
you in your business deals, and who has recently broken 
away from you, unless our information is inaccurate; 
there is the death of Raoul, who was seen seated next to 
you and apparently carrying on a conversation behind a 
I fan.’^ 

: ^‘He never spoke a word to me, ” protested the colonel, 

i “And we have the disappearance of Miss White, which 
i is one of the most important of the happenings, because 
i we have reason to believe that Miss White, at any rate, 
is still alive,” said Sir Stanley, taking no notice of the 
1 interruption. “Now, colonel, you may or may not have 
, the key to all these mysteries. You may or may not know 
' who your mysterious friend, the Jack o^ Judgment ” 

“He’s no friend of mine, by Heaven!” said the colonel, 
and neither man doubted that he spoke the truth. 

“As I say, you may know all these things. But princi- 
, pally at this moment we are anxious to secure authentic 
news concerning Miss White. Both I and Mr. Stafford 
King have particular reasons for desiring information 
r on that subject. Can you help me?” 

The colonel shook his head. 

“If by spending a hundred thousand pounds I could 
help you, I would do it,” he said fervently, “but as to 
Miss White and where she is, I am as much at sea as you. 
Do you believe that, sir?” 

“No,” said Sir Stanley truthfully; “I don’t.” 


CHAPTER XX 


SWELL CREWE BACKS OUT 

The colonel left Scotland Yard with a sense that he 
had spent the morning not unprofitably. It was his way 
to beard the lion in his den, and, after all, the police 
department was no more formidable than any other 
public department. He spent the morning quietly in 
Pinto’s flat, making certain preparations. 

The workmen were doing a thorough job with his 
damaged wall, as he found when he looked in, and the 
horrible odor had almost disappeared. It was to be a 
much longer job than he thought. It had been necessary 
to cut away and replace the plaster under the paper, for 
the infernal mixture had soaked deep. 

Still the colonel had plenty to occupy his mind. What 
he called his legitimate business had been sadly neglected 
of late. Reports had come in from all sorts of agencies, 
reports which might by careful study be turned to the 
greatest advantage. There was the affair of Lady 
Glenmerrin. He had been months accumulating evidence 
of that lady’s marital delinquencies, and now the iron 
was ready to strike — and he simply had no interest in 
a deal which might very easily transfer the famous Glen- 
merrin farms to his charge at a nominal figure. 

And there were other prospects as alluring. But for 
the moment the colonel was mainly interested in the 
stock value of Colonel Dan Boundary and the possibility 
132 


SWELL CREWE BACKS OUT 


133 


of violent fluctuations. He was losing grip. The story 
of Jack o’ Judgment had circulated with amazing rapidity 
by all manner of underground channels, to people vitally 
concerned. Crewe, who had been a standby in almost 
every big coup he had pulled off, was as stable as pulp. 
White, his right-hand man, was dead. Pinto — well, 
Pinto would go his own way just when it suited him. 
He had no doubt whatever as to Pinto’s loyalty. Silva 
had big estates in Portugal, to which he would retire 
just when things were getting warm and interesting. 
Moreover, the British government could not extradite 
Pinto from his native land. 

The colonel found himself regretting that he had missed 
the opportunity of taking up American citizenship during 
the seven years he had spent in San Francisco. And what 
of Crewe? Crewe was to reveal himself most unmistak- 
ably. He came in in the late afternoon and found the 
colonel working through the litter on his desk. 

^‘Have you started your search at Oxford?” asked the 
colonel. 

^‘I’ve sent two men down there — the best men in 
London,” replied Crewe. 

He drew up a chair to the desk and flung his hat on 
a near-by couch. 

want to have a little talk with you, colonel.” 

Boundary looked up sharply. 

^‘That sounds bad,” he said. ^‘What do you want to 
talk about — the weather?” 

‘‘Hardly,” said Crewe. A little pause, and then he 
announced: “Colonel, I’m going to quit.” 

The colonel made no reply. He went on writing his 
letter, and not until he had reached the end of the page 


134 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


and carefully blotted the epistle did he meet Crewe’s eyes. 

‘‘So you're going to quit, are you?” said Boundary. 
“Cold feet?” 

“Something like that,” said Crewe. “Of course, I’m 
not going to leave you in the lurch. ” 

“Oh, no,” said the colonel with elaborate politeness, 
“nobody's going to leave me in the lurch. You're just 
going to quit, that's all, and I've got to face the music. ” 

“Why don't you quit, too, colonel?” 

“Quit what?” asked Boundary, “and how? You 
might as well ask a tree to quit the earth, to uproot itself 
and go on living. What happens when I walk out of this 
office and take a first-class stateroom to New York? 
You think the Boundary gang collapses, fades away, 
just dies off, eh? The moment I leave there's a squeal, 
and that squeal will be loud enough to reach me in what- 
ever part of the world I may be. There are a dozen 
handy little combinations which will think that I am 
double crossing them, and they'll be falling over one 
another to get in with the first tale. ” 

Crewe licked his dry lips. 

“Well, that certainly may be in your case, colonel, 
but it doesn't happen to be in mine. I've covered all my 
tracks so that there's no evidence against me.” 

“That's true,” said the colonel, “you've just managed 
to keep out of taking an important part. I congratulate 
you. ” 

“There's no sense in getting riled about it,” said 
Crewe; “it has just been my luck, that's all. Well, I 
want to take advantage of this luck. ” 

“In what way?” 

“I'm out of any bad trouble.” The police, if they 


SWELL CREWE BACKS OUT 


135 


search for a million years, couldn^t get a scrap of evidence 
to convict me,” he said. '‘Even if they’d had you when 
Hanson betrayed you, they couldn’t have convicted me 
also. ” 

“That’s true,” said the colonel again. He shook his 
head impatiently. “Well, what does all this lead to, 
Crewe? Do you want to be demobilized?” he asked 
humorously. 

“That’s about the size of it,” said Crewe. “I don’t 
want to be in anything new, and I certainly don’t want 
to be in this ” 

“What?” 

“ In this Maisie White business, ” said Crewe doggedly. 
“Let Pinto do his own dirty work.” 

“My dirty work, too,” said the colonel. “But I 
reckon you’ve overlooked one important fact. ” 

“What’s that?” demanded Crewe suspiciously. 

“You’ve overlooked a young gentleman called Jack 
o’ Judgment,” said the colonel, and enjoyed the look of 
consternation which came to the other’s face. “There’s 
a fellow that doesn’t want any evidence. He hanged 
Raoul all right.” 

“Do you think he did it?” said Crewe in a hushed 
voice. 

“Do I think he did it?” The colonel smiled. “Why 
who else? And when he comes to judge you, I guess he’s 
not going to worry very much about affidavits and sworn 
statements, and he’s not going to take you before a 
magistrate before he hands you over to the coroner.” 

Crewe jumped to his feet. 

“What have I done?” he asked harshly. 

“What have you done? Well, you know best,” said 


136 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


the colonel with a wave of his hand. “You say the police 
haven’t got you and haven’t a case against you. Maybe 
you’re right. That Greek was saying the same sort of 
thing to me. He was here this afternoon squealing about 
taking the girl to the Argentine: wanted us to send the 
doctor while he would wait to meet us when we land. 
There’s no evidence against him either. Maybe there’s 
more evidence than you imagine. I wouldn’t bank too 
much upon the police passing you by, if I were you, 
Crewe. There’s something about Mr. Stafford King 
that I don’t like. He’s got more brains in his little finger 
than that dude commissioner has in the whole of his body. 
He doesn’t say much, but I guess he thinks a lot, and 
I’d give something to know what he’s thinking about me 
just now.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE BRIDE OF DEATH 

Time had long ceased to have any significance for 
Maisie White. There was daylight and night light. She 
seemed to remember that she had made a great fight 
on the day she arrived at this strange house when the 
hard-faced nurses had strapped her to the bed, and an 
old man, with trembling fingers, had pushed a needle 
into her arm. She remembered it hurt, and then she 
remembered very little else. She viewed life with a dull 
apathy and without much understanding. She ceased 
to resent the presence of the women wHo came and went, 
and even the uncleanly old doctor no longer filled her 
with a sense of revulsion. 

She just wanted to be left alone to sleep, to dream the 
strangest dreams that any girl had ever had. She did not 
know that this was the action of a drug, consistently 
administered in every drink she took, in every morsel 
of food she ate. Bromide in bread, in coffee, in mashed 
potatoes, in rice, in all the vehicles by which the drug 
could be administered. 

Sometimes by reason of her sheer vitality she flung off 
the effects of the dope, and was keenly conscious of her 
surroundings. There was one girl, who came and went, 
a pretty girl with fluffy golden hair, who looked at her 
dispassionately and made no reply to the questions with 
137 


138 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


which Maisie plied her. And once she had seen Pinto 
and would have screamed, but they stopped her in time. 
And then a dark man had come, a little man with long 
curling mustaches, who had looked down and showed 
his even white teeth in a smile. 

One night the old doctor had come into the room very 
drunk. He was crying and moaning in a maudlin fashion 
about some mysterious position which he had lost, and 
he had sat on the bed and cursed his passion for strong 
drink with such vehemence that she, in her half-dazed 
state of mind, had found herself interested against her 
will. 

In one of her lucid intervals she had realized a vital 
fact, that she was under the influence of a drug, and 
instinctively knew that she was becoming more and 
more immune to its action. She formed a vague plan, 
which she had almost forgotten the next morning. She 
must always be sleepy, almost dazed; she must never 
show signs of returning consciosuness. She had been a 
week in the “nursing home” before she made this plan. 
She could lie now with her eyes shut, picking up the 
threads. She heard somebody talk of a ship and of a 
passport, and learned that she was to be removed in 
another week. She could not find where, but it was some- 
where on a ship. She tried once, when the nurses were 
out of the room, to get out of bed and walk to the window. 
Her legs gave way beneath her, and it was with the 
greatest difficulty that she managed to crawl back to bed. 

There was no escape that way. There was no help 
either from the nurses who were not nurses at all, nor 
from the maudlin little doctor, nor from the pretty girl 
who came sometimes and looked down on her with 


THE BRIDE OF DEATH 


139 


undisguised contempt — or was it pity? Then one night 
she woke in a fright. 

Two people were talking. She half turned her head 
and saw that Pinto Silva was in the room and his face was 
flaming fury. She had seen that look before, but now 
his rage was directed at somebody else, and with a start 
she recognized the pretty girl that the nurses called 
Lollie. 

^‘YouVe not in this, Lollie,^’ said the man, and she 
laughed. 

‘‘That’s just where you’re wrong, Silva,” she replied; 
“I’m very much in it. What happens to this girl when 
she leaves here, I don’t know — I guess it’s up to the 
colonel. But while she’s here, I’m looking after her. ” 

“You are, are you? ” he said between his teeth. “ Well, 
now you can go and take a walk. ” 

“I can also take a seat, too,” she said. He walked 
over to her and glowered down at the girl, and she 
puffed a cloud of cigarette smoke in his face. 

“I’m a crook because it pays me to be a crook,” said 
the girl calmly. “If it’s jollying along one of the colonel’s 
blue-eyed innocents, or keeping a watchful eye upon 
Mr. King — why, I’m ready and willing, because that’s 
my job. But this is a different matter altogether. If 
the colonel says she’s got to go abroad, why, I suppose 
she’s got to go. But she’s not going to be subjected to 
your persecution while she’s under my charge,” said 
Lollie. 

“Oh, that’s all, is it?” repeated Pinto. “Now, just 
come outside; I’ve a few words to say to you. ” 

They passed through the door into a smaller room 
where the night watchers sat. Lollie made as though 


140 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


to sit at the table, when he gripped her arm and swung 
her round. She put up her hands to defend herself, but 
she was thrown against the wall and his grip was on her 
throat. 

“Do you know what I’ll do to you?” he threatened. 

“I don’t care what you do,” she said. She was on the 
verge of tears. “You’re not going into that room!” 

She sprang at him, but with a snarl like a wild beast, 
he turned and struck at her, and she fell against the wall. 

“Now get out” — he pointed to the door — “get out 
and don’t show your face here again or I’ll mark it for 
you.” 

She slunk from the room, sick at heart, and he locked 
the door behind her. 

All that was worst in him was alive and active this 
night. Here was a girl who had rejected him, who had 
poured contempt upon offers which he honestly believed 
were generous. Pinto Silva was nine-tenths brute. He 
had neither conscience nor pity, and he went back to the 
room where the girl lay, determined to mar her beauty 
with the acid he carried in his pocket, if she still refused 
to marry him as soon as he should obtain a divorce. 

He knelt down beside the bed. 

“Covered your head with a blanket, my pretty, eh?” 
he said with a sneer. “Pinto must see that pretty face, 
and now. ” 

He laid hold of the blanket’s edge and pulled it down. 
He wanted to see the eyes panic-stricken, and the drawn 
mouth that he had glimpsed in that second before LoUie 
Marsh had intruded upon his plan of revenge. 

But the blankets would not come away. They were 
being clutched tightly. The resistance inflamed him. 


THE BRIDE OF DEATH 


141 


With a jerk he wrenched them down, then stumbled 
backward to the floor, a grotesque and ludicrous figure, 
for the white silk mask of Jack o’ Judgment confronted 
him and the hateful voice of his enemy shrilled : 

“I’m Death! Who wants me as a bride? Jack o’ 
Judgment! Poor old Jack! Jack Ketch, the hangman. 
You’ll meet him one day, Pinto — meet him now!” 

Pinto collapsed — he had fainted. 


CHAPTER XXII 


MAISIE TELLS HER STORY 

‘^There is one fact which I would impress upon you, 
said Sir Stanley Relcom, addressing the heads of his 
departments at the early morning conference at Scotland 
Yard, “and it is this: that the criminal has nine chances 
against the one which the law possesses. He has the 
initiative in the first place, and if he fails to evade detec- 
tion, the law gives him certain opportunities of defense 
and imposes certain restrictions which prevent one 
taking a line which would bring the truth of his asser- 
tions or denials to light. It protects him; it will not 
admit evidence against him; it will not allow the jury 
to be influenced by the record of his previous crimes until 
they have delivered their verdict upon the one on which 
he stands charged; in fact, gentlemen, the criminal, if 
he were intelligent, would score all the time. ” 

“That^s true enough, sir,’’ said Cole, of the record 
ofiice, “I’ve never yet met 'a criminal who wasn’t a fool. ” 
“And you never will till you meet Colonel Boundary, ” 
said Sir Stanley with a good-natured smile; “and the 
reason you do not meet him is because he is not a fool. 
But, gentlemen, every criminal has one weak spot, and 
sooner or later he exposes the chink in his armor to the 
sword of justice — if you do not mind so theatrical an 
illustration. Here again, I do not think that Boundary 
will make any such exposure. One of you gentlemen has 
142 


MAISIE TELLS HER STORY 


143 


again brought up the question as to the prosecution of 
the Boundary gang, and particularly the colonel himself. 
Well, I am all in favor of it, though I doubt whether the 
home secretary or the public prosecutor would agree 
with my point of view. We have a great deal of evidence, 
but not sufficient evidence to convict. We know this 
man is a blackmailer and that he engages in terrorizing 
his unfortunate victims, but the mere fact that we know 
is not sufficient. We need the evidence, and that evidence 
we have not got. And that is where our mysterious Jack 
o^ Judgment is going to score. He knows, and it is 
sufficient for him that he does know. He calls for no 
corroborative evidence, but convicts and executes his 
judgment without recourse to the law books. I do not 
think that the official police will ever capture Boundary, 
and if it is left to them, he will die sanctified by old age 
and ten years of comfortable repentance. He will 
probably end his life in a cathedral town, and may indeed 
become a member of the town council. Hello, King, 
what is the matter?’’ 

Stafford King had rushed in. He was dusty and hot of 
face, and there was a light of excitement in his eye. 

She’s found, sir; she’s found!” 

She’s found?” Sir Stanley frowned. ^^To whom are 
you referring — Miss White? ” 

Stafford could only nod. 

With a gesture the commissioner dismissed the con- 
ference, then he asked: 

Where was she found?” 

In her own flat, sir. That is the amazing thing about 
it.” 

*^What? Did she come back herself ? ” 


144 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Stafford shook his head. 

‘‘It is an astonishing story, sir. She was, of course, 
detained and held prisoner somewhere, and last night — 
she will not give me any details — she was carried from 
the house where she had been kept prisoner. She had an 
awful experience, at which she only hints, poor girl! 
Apparently she fainted, and when she came to she was 
in a motor car, being carried along rapidly. And that 
is about all she’ll tell me. ” 

“But who brought her away?” asked the commis- 
sioner. 

Again Stafford shook his head. 

“For some reason or other she is reticent, and will give 
me no information at all. It is evident she has been 
drugged, for she looked wretchedly ill — of course, 
I haven’t pressed her for further particulars. ” 

. “ It is a strange story, ” said the commissioner. 

“I have a feeling,” Stafford went on, “that she has 
given a promise to her unknown rescuer that she will not 
tell more than is necessary.” 

“But it is necessary to tell the police,” said the com- 
missioner, “and even more important for the young 
lady to tell her — fiance, I hope. King? ” 

The young man reddened and smiled. 

“I agree with you that this is not the moment when 
you can cross-examine the girl, but I want you to see 
her as soon as you possibly can and try to induce her to 
tell you all she knows. ” 

♦ * * 

Maisie White lay on the sofa in her own room. She 
was still weak, but, oh 1 the relief of being back again and 
of ending that terrible nightmare which had oppressed 


MAISIE TELLS HER STORY 


145 


^her for — how long? Even the depressing effect of the 
drug could not quench the exaltation of finding herself 
free. She went over the details of the night one by one. 
She must do it, she thought. She must never lose grip 
of what happened or forget her promise. 

First she recalled seeing the weird figure of Jack o^ 
Judgment. He had lifted her from the bed and had laid 
her on the floor. She remembered seeing him slip beneath 
the blankets, and then Pinto had come. She recalled the 
cracked voice of her rescuer, his fantastic language. 

She had awakened to consciousness to find herself in 
a big car which was passing quickly through the dark and 
deserted streets. She had no recollection of being carried 
from the room or of being handed to the thickset man 
who stood on a ladder outside the open window. All 
she recalled was her waking to consciousness and see- 
ing in the half light the gleam of a white silk handker- 
chief. 

She was too dazed to be terrified, and the soft voice 
which spoke into her ear quelled any inclinations she 
might have had to struggle. For the man was holding 
her in his arms as tenderly as a brother might hold a 
sister, or a father a child. 

''You're safe, Miss White," said the voice. "Do you 
understand? Are you awake? " 

"Yes," she whispered. 

"You know what I have saved you from?" 

She nodded. 

"I want you to do something for me now. Will you?" 
She nodded again. "Are you sure you understand? " said 
the voice anxiously. 

"I quite understand," she replied. 


146 JACK JUDGMENT 

She could have almost smiled at his consideration. | 
am taking you to your home, and tomorrow your | 
friends will know that you have returned. But you re not » 
to tell them about the house where they have kept you. 
You must not tell them about Silva or anybody that was c 
in that house. Do you understand? j 

'‘But why?” She began, and he laughed softly. ^ 

“I am not trying to shield them,” he said, answering y 
her unspoken thought, “but if you give information > 
you can only tell a little, and the police can only dis- | 
cover a little, and the men can only be punished a little, y 
And there’s so much that they deserve, so many lives j 
they have ruined, so much sorrow they have caused, 
that it would be a hideous injustice if they were only 
punished — a little. Will you leave them to me?’ y 

She struggled to an erect position and stared at hun. 

“I know you,” she whispered fearfully, “you are . 
Jack o’ Judgment!” ^ : 

“Jack o’ Judgment!” He laughed a little bitterly. 
“Yes, I am Jack o’ Judgment.” 

“Who are you?” she asked. : 

“A living lie,” he replied bitterly, “a masquerader, a ' ; 
nobody. ” 

She did not know what impelled her to do the thing, 
but she put out her hand and laid it on his. She felt the 
silky smoothness of the glove, and then his other hand 
covered hers. y 

“Thank you, ” he said simply. “ Do you think you can 
walk? We are just turning into Doughty Street. We’ve : 
passed the policeman on his beat; he is going the other 
way. Can you walk upstairs by yourself?” 

“I — I’ll try, ” she said; but when he assisted her from 


MAISIE TELLS HER STORY 


147 


the cab she nearly fell, and he half carried, half supported 
her into her room. 

He stood hesitating near the door. 

shall be all right. She smiled. ^^How quickly you 
understand my thoughts!’^ 

Wouldn’t it be well if I sent somebody to you — a 
nurse? Have you the key I gave you? ” 

^‘How uid you get it?” she asked suddenly; and he 
laughed again. 

“Jack o’ Judgment,” he said mockingly. “Wise old 
Jack o’ Judgment! He has everything and nothing! 
Suppose I send a nurse to you, a nice nurse. I could send 
the key to her by messenger. Would you like that?” 

She looked doubtful. 

“I think I would, ” she said with a weak smile; “lam 
not quite sure of myself.” 

He did not take off the soft felt hat which was drawn 
tightly over his ears, nor did he remove his mask or 
cloak. She was making up her mind to take closer stock 
of him, when unexpectedly he backed towards the door 
and with a little nod was gone. He had left her on the 
couch, and there she was, half dozing and half drugged, 
when the matronly nurse from St. George’s Institute 
arrived half an hour later. 

Stafford called in the afternoon and was surprised and 
delighted to learn that he could speak to the girl. He 
found her looking better and more cheerful. He bent 
over and kissed her cheek and her hand sought his. 

“Now, I’m going to be awfully official.” He laughed. 
“I want you to tell me all sorts of things. The chief 
is very anxious that we should lose no time in getting 
your story. ” 


148 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


She shook her head. 

^^There^s no story to tell, Stafford,” she said. 

^‘No story to tell?” he said incredulously. ^^But ■ 
weren’t you abducted?” 

She nodded. 

^'There’s so much you know,” she said; was 
abducted and taken away. I have been detained and, 

I think, drugged.” * 

'‘No harm has come to you?” he asked anxiously. 

Again she shook her head. 

"But where did they take you? Who was it? Who 
were the people?” 

"I can’t tell you, ” she said. 

"You don’t know?” 

She hesitated. 

"Yes, I think I know, but I can’t tell you.” 

"But why?” he asked in astonishment. 

"Because the man who rescued me begged me not to 
tell, and, Stafford, you don’t know what he saved me 
from. ” 

"He — he — who was it?” asked Stafford. 

“The man called Jack o’ Judgment,” said the girl 
slowly, and Stafford jumped up with a cry. 

"Jack o’ Judgment!” he said. "I ought to have 
guessed! Did you see his face?” he demanded eagerly. 

She shook her head again. 

“ Did he give you any clew to his identity? ” , 

"None whatever,” she replied with a little gleam of ! 
amusement in her eyes. "What a detective you are, 5 
Stafford! And I thought you were coming down here ‘ 
to tell me” — the color went to her cheeks — "well to tell 
me the news, ” she added hastily. " Is there any news? ” 


MAISIE TELLS HER STORY 


149 


‘‘None, except ” 

Then he remembered that she knew nothing whatever 
of her father’s death and its tragic sequel, and this was 
not the moment to tell her. Later, when she was stronger, 
perhaps. 

She was watching him with trouble in her eyes. She 
had noted how quickly he had stopped, and guessed 
that there was something to be told which he was with- 
holding for fear of hurting her. Her father was upper- 
most in her mind, and it was natural that she should 
think of him. 

“Is there any news of my father?’’ she asked quietly. 

“None,” he lied. 

“ You’re not speaking the truth, Stafford. ” She put her 
hand on his arm. “Stafford, is there any news of my 
father? ” 

He looked at her, and she saw the pain in his face. 

“Why don’t you wait a little while, and I’ll tell you 
all the news,” he said with an assumption of gaiety. 
“There have been several fashionable weddings and ” 

“Please tell me,” she said. “Stafford, I’ve been for 
weeks under the influence of a drug, and somehow it has 
numbed pain, even mental pain, and perhaps you will 
never find me in a better condition to hear — the 
worst. ” 

“The worst has happened, Maisie,” he said gently. 

“He has been arrested?” she asked. 

He shook his head. 

“No, dear; worse than that.” 

<<]^ot — not suicide?” she said between her set teeth. 

Again he shook his head. 

“He is dead,” he said softly. 


150 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


‘^Dead!” 

There was a long silence, which he did not break. 

“Dead!” she said again. “How?” 

“He was shot by’ — we think it was by a member of 
the Boundary gang, a man named Raoul. ” 

She looked up at him. 

“I have never heard my father speak of him. ” 

“He was a man imported from France, according to 
our theory.” 

“And was he captured?” 

“He was killed, too,” said Stafford; “he was caught 
in the act and instantly executed. ” 

“By whom?” she asked. 

“By Jack o’ Judgment,” replied Stafford. 

“Jack o’ Judgment!” She breathed the words. “And 
I — I never thanked him! I never knew! ” 

He told her the story, step by step, of the discovery 
which the police had made and the theories they had 
formed. 

“He was lured there,” said the girl. 

She did not cry; she seemed incapable of tears. 

“He was lured there and murdered, and Jack o’ 
Judgment slew his murderer? Poor father! Poor, dear 
daddy!” 

And then the tears came. 

Half an hour later he left her in charge of the nurse 
and went back to Scotland Yard to report. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE gang fund 

The news af the girPs escape had been received in 
another quarter. Colonel Boundary had sat in his favor- 
ite chair and listened without comment to Pinto^s halting 
explanation. 

“Oh, they went out of the window and down a ladder, 
did they?” said the colonel sarcastically when the Portu- 
guese had finished. “And you had a fit on the mat, 
I suppose! Well, that’s a fine story! And what did you 
do — you who were plastered all over with guns? 
Couldn’t you shoot?” 

“Did you shoot when you saw Jack o’ Judgment?” 
said the other sullenly. “It is no good your telling me 
what I ought to do. ” 

“Maybe it isn’t,” said the colonel. “Well, there’s 
nothing to do now, anyway. The girl’s gone and all our 
plans are undone.” 

The colonel bit off the end of his cigar and lit it, sitting 
back in the chair and contemplating the ceiling refiec- 
tively. 

“We can only wait and see what will happen,” he said; 
“the odds are all in favor of our being raided. ” 

Pinto went pale. 

“Yes,” said the colonel talking to himself, “I guess 
this is our last day of freedom. Well, Pinto, I hope you 
can pick oakum.” 


161 


152 


JACK JUDGMENT 


^^Oh, shut up about oakum,” retorted the other. ^ 
“It isnT a joke.” y 

“It is not a joke,” said the colonel; ^^and if it is, it is v; 
one of those jokes that make people laugh the most. 
And do you know the kind of joke that makes people ' 
laugh the most, Pinto? It is when somebody gets hurt, 
and we are the people who are going to get hurt. ” 

“ Do you think she’ll tell the police? ” ; 

“It is extremely likely,” said the colonel; “in fact, • 
it is extremely unlikely that she won’t tell the police. 

I am rather glad I’m out of it.” 

Pinto leaped up. ' 

“You’re out of it!” he shouted. “You’re in it up to 
the neck!” 

The colonel shook his head. 

“I’m absolutely out of it, Pinto,” he said, flicking the 
ash of his cigar into the fireplace ; “ I cannot be identified ‘ 
with this unhappy affair by so much as a finger print.” 
The Portuguese scowled down at him. 

“So that’s the game, is it? You’re going to double ' 
cross us? You’re going to be out of it and we’re going to ' 
be in it!” f 

“Sit down, you fool! Double cross you! You are « 
easily scared. I’m merely pointing out that it is not a ' 
matter in which I am greatly interested. It is a good [ 
thing for you I’m not. Whom are the police after? You j l 
and Crewe and the rest of the gang? Not on your life! 1 
They’re after me. They get the trunk and all the 
branches come down with it. Do you see? There’s no S' 
sense in lopping off a few branches, even of dead wood. *1 
It won t be good enough if they connect you with the 1] 
case, unless they connect me, too. They’re after the ^ ’ 


THE GANG FUND 


153 


big boras; they^re not shooting the little bucks. If she 
tells the police, they’re going to snoop around for two or 
three days seeing how far they can connect me with it. 
Why, they’ll arrest you without a doubt, but they’ll arrest 
me, too.” 

The colonel blew a blue ring of smoke into the air and 
watched it float to the ceiling. 

^‘The advantage of having a business associate like 
me is that I’m a sort of insurance to you little crooks. 

I am the big fish they’re trying to hook, and their bait 
isn’t the kind of bait that you’d swallow.” 

'‘I’ve burned all the papers I had,” explained Pinto, 
“and covered my trail.” 

“When you burned your boats and came in with me,” 
said the colonel, “you burned everything that was worth 
burning. I tell you it isn’t you they’re trailing. It is me 
or nothing. Maybe they’ll scare you, ” he said reflectively, 
“hoping you’ll turn king’s evidence. I’ve got a feeling 
that you won’t — if I had a feeling the other way about, 
Pinto, you wouldn’t see the curtain rise at the Orpheum 
tonight. And now, ” said the colonel, “we’ll go out. ” 

He rose abruptly, walked into his bedroom, and came 
out wearing his broad felt hat. He found Pinto biting 
his finger nails nervously and looking out of the window. 

“I don’t want to go out,” said Pinto. 

“Come out,” said the colonel. “What’s the good of 
staying here, anyway? Besides, if they are going to arrest 
you, I don’t want them to arrest you in my rooms. It 
would look bad.” 

They walked downstairs into the street, and a few 
minutes later they were strolling across Green Park, the 
colonel a picture of a contented bourgeois, with his half- 


154 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


smoked cigar, and his hands clasped together under the 
tails of his alpaca coat. 

''I don’t see how you can say they’ve no evidence 
against you. Suppose Crotin squeals?” 

“He ain’t stopped squealing yet,” said the colonel 
philosophically, ^‘but I don’t see what difference it makes. 
Pinto, you haven’t got the hang of my methods, and I 
doubt if you ever will. You’re a clever, useful fellow, 
but if you were allowed to run the gang you’d have it in 
jail in a month. Take the manufacturer, Crotin,” he 
said. dare say he’s feeling sore, and maybe this 
cursed Jack o’ Judgment is standing behind him telling 
him He stopped. “No, he wouldn’t either,” he 

said after a moment’s thought; “Jack o’ Judgment 
knows as much about it as I do. ” 

“What are you talking about?” asked the other 
impatiently. 

Crotin, said the colonel; ^^he hasn’t any evidence 
against me. You see, I do not do any business by letters. 
You fellows have often wanted me to write to this 
person and that, but writing is evidence. Do you get me? 
And what evidence has Crotin? Absolutely none. 

I have never written a line to him in my life. Crewe 
brought him down to the flat. We gave him a dinner and 
put the proposal to him in plain language. There’s 
nothing he could take before a judge and jury — abso- 
lutely nothing.” 

He took the cigar from his mouth and blew a cloud of 
smoke. 

That s the way I’ve built the business up — no 
letters, no documents, nothing that a lawyer can make 
head or tail of.” 


THE GANG FUND 155 

What about the documents that Hanson talked 
about? ” 

The colonel frowned and then laughed. 

They’re nothing but records of our transactions, 
and they’re not evidence. Why, even the police have 
given up the search for them. By the way, I haven’t 
done with Crotin,” he said after a while. 

^^He’s done with you, I should think, said Pinto 
grimly. 

The colonel nodded. 

guess so, but he hasn^t done with the gang. You 
can take him on next.” 

‘‘I?” said Pinto in affright. ^^Now look here, colonel, 
don’t you think it’s time we lay low?” 

^^Lay low!” said the colonel scornfully. We’re either 
going to get into trouble or we’re not. If we’re not going 
to get into trouble we might as well go on. Besides, we 
want the money. The business has slackened off, and we 
haven’t had a deal since the Spillsbury affair, and that 
won’t last very long. We’ve got to split our loot six ways, 
Pinto, and that leaves very little for anybody. ” 

“Where are you going now?” asked the other, as the 
colonel changed his direction. 

“It just struck me that we might as well go over to 
the bank and see how our balance stands. Also, with the 
exchange going against us, I want to tell Ferguson to 
buy dollars.” 

The handsome premises of the Victoria & City Bank, 
in Victoria Street, were only a stone’s throw from the 
park; and, whatever might be the views of Ferguson, the 
manager, as to the colonel’s moral character, he had a 
considerable respect for him as a financier, and Dan 


156 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Boundary was shown immediately into the manager's 
office. ; 

He was gone some time, while Pinto waited impatiently 
outside. The colonel never invited other members, even ; 
of the inmost council, to share his knowledge of finances. , 
They all knew roughly the condition of the exchequer, ' 
but really the balance at the Victoria & City was the 
coloneks own. It was the practice of the Boundary gang to 
share after each coup, every man taking that to which he ■ 
was entitled. The money was split among five, the sixth 
share going to what was known as the ^‘Gang Account, 
a common fund upon which all could draw in moments 
of necessity. 

The gang fund was not so described in the books of 
the bank. It was known as “Account B.” The expenses 
of operations were usually paid out of the colonePs 
private account, and credited to him when the next 
division took place. He was absolute master of his j 
own balance, but it required three signatures to extract 1 
a check from account B. One of the objects of the colonel’s ^ 
visit was to reduce this number to two, the death of f 
Solomon White having removed one of the signatories, f 
He returned to Pinto, apparently not too well satisfied. | 
“There’s quite a lot of money in the gang account,” I 
he said. “I’ve struck off Solly’s name; and your signa- | 
ture and mine, or mine and Crewe’s are sufficient now.” ( 
“Or mine and Crewe’s, I suppose?” suggested Pinto, t 
and the colonel smiled. 

“Oh, no,” said he. “I’m not a great believer in the 
indispensability of any man, but I’m making the signa- | 
ture of Dan Boundary indispensable before that account | 
is touched.” I 


THE GANG FUND 


157 


They walked back through the park, and the colonel 
expounded his philosophy of wrong living. 

‘'The man who runs an honest business and mixes 
it with a little crooked work is bound to be caught,” he 
said, “because his mind is concentrated on the unpaying 
side of the game. You’ve got to run a crook business 
i.'i an honest way if you want to escape the law, and pay 
big dividends. They call our system blackmail, but 
it ain’t. A blackmailer asks for something for nothing, 
and he’s bound to get caught sooner or later. We offer 
spot cash for all the things we steal, and that baffles the 
law. And we’re not the only people in London, or in 
England, or in the world, who are pulling bargains by 
scaring the fellow we buy from. It is done every day in 
London; it is done every day by the trusts that control 
the little shops in the suburbs ; it is done even by the big 
proprietory companies that tell a miserable little trades- 
man that, if he doesn’t stop selling one article, they 
won’t supply him with theirs. Living, Pinto, is preying. 
The only mistake a crook ever makes is when he goes 
outside of his legitimate business and lets some other 
consideration than the piling up of money influence him. ” 
“How do you mean?” asked Pinto wearily. He hated 
the colonel when he was in this communicative mood of 
his. 

“Well,” said the colonel slowly, “I shouldn’t have 
been so keen to go after Maisie White if it hadn’t been 
that you were fond of her and wanted her. That’s what 
I call letting love interfere with business. ” 

“But you said you were airaid of her blabbing. You 
don’t put the blame onto me, ” said the indignant Pinto. 
“I was, and I wasn’t,” said the colonel, “I think I 


158 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


almost persuaded myself that the girl was a danger. Of 
course, she isn’t. Even Solomon White wasn’t a danger. ” 

He stopped dead, and, speaking slowly and pointing 
his words with a huge forefinger on the other’s chest, he 
said: 

^^Bear this fact in mind, Pinto, that I have no malice 
against Miss White, and I don’t think that she can harm 
me. As far as I’m concerned, I will never hurt a hair 
of her head or do her the slightest harm. I believe that 
she has nothing against me, and I give orders to anybody 
who’s connected with me — in fact, to any of my busi- 
ness associates — that that girl is not to be interfered 
with.” 

Slowly, emphatically, every word emphasized, the 
colonel spoke; but Pinto did not smile. He had seen 
the colonel in this gentle mood before, and he knew that ; 
Maisie White was doomed. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


PINTO GOBS NORTH 

Had Pinto been a psychologist, which he was not, he 
might have been struck by the unusual reference on the 
part of the colonel to the funds of the gang. It was a 
subject to which the colonel very seldom referred, and 
it was certainly one which he did not emphasize. The 
truth was that the colonePs investigations into his own 
private affairs had not been as satisfactory as he had 
hoped would be the case. 

He was in the habit of advancing money, and the 
gang owed him a considerable sum, money which had 
been advanced for the pursuit of various enterprises. 
To draw from that money would leave the gang funds 
1 sadly depleted. Yet he could not afford to draw upon 
I it at a moment when they were all on edge. Not onb/ 
i were the two principal subordinates in the condition 
, of mind which led them to jump at every knock and start 
i at every shadow, but he had been receiving urgent mes- 
! sages from all parts of the country from the other men, 
and he had determined upon a step which he had not 
taken for three years — a meeting of the full Board” 
of his lawless organization. 

That night summonses went forth calling his “business 
associates” to an “Extraordinary General Meeting of the 
North European Smelter Syndicate.” This was one of 
l.the companies which he operated, and the existence of 


160 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


which was justified by a small smelting works in the north 
of England, and owed its international character to the 
fact that it had a branch works in Sweden. Its turnover 
was small, its list of stockholders was select. A summons 
to a general meeting of the North European Smelter 
Syndicate meant that the affairs of the gang were critical, 
and in this spirit the call was obeyed. 

The meeting was held in the banquet hall of a West 
End restaurant, and the twenty men who assembled 
differed very little in appearance from twenty other 
provincial business men who might have been gathered 
to discuss the affairs of any company. 

Their coming excited no comment and apparently did 
not even arouse the attention of vigilant Scotland 
Yard. Nor, had the colonel’s speech been taken down 
by a shorthand writer and submitted to the police, 
could any suggestion be found of the significance of the 
meeting. He spoke of the difficulties of trading, of the 
“competition” with which the company was faced, and 
called upon aU the shareholders to assist loyally the 
executive in a very critical and trying time. But those 
who listened knew very well that the “competition” 
was the competition of the police, and they had their 
own ideas as to what constituted the trying time to 
which the colonel made reference. 

It was a very commonplace, ordinary company meet- 
ing, which ended in a conventional way by a vote of 
confidence in the directors. It was when that had been 
passed, and the meeting had broken up, and members 
and officials were talking together, that the real business 
started. 

Then it was that Selby, the stout little man, whose 


PINTO GOES NORTH 


161 


special job was to act as intermediary between the com- 
pany and Its more criminal enterprises, received his 
instructions to speed up. Selby was the receiver of letters. 
A burglar or a pickpocket who acquired in the course 
of his activities documents and letters which had hitherto 
been worthless found a ready market through Selby. 
Eighty letters out of every hundred were absolutely 
valueless, but occasionally they would find a rich gem, 
a love^ letter indiscreetly cherished, on which a new 
operation would be based. Then would begin the subtle 
torturing of a human soul, the opening of new vistas of 
despair , the stage cleared for a new tragedy. 

The colonel was to find that the chief anxiety of his 

shareholders^^ was not as to the future of the company 
or as to the success of its trading. Again and again he 
was^ asked a question couched in identical words, and 
again and again he replied with a shrug of his big 
shoulders : 

'' What's the good of worrying about a thing like that? 
Jack o' Judgment is a crook! That's all he is, boys, a 
crook. He's not the sort of man who'll go to the police; 
he wouldn't dare put his face inside a police station. 
You leave him to us; we'll fix him sooner or later. " 

“But," somebody asked uneasily, “what about Raoul, 
that fellow who was killed at Putney?" 

The colonel lifted his eyebrows. 

“Raoul?" he said. “He had nothing to do with us. 
I never heard the fellow's name until I read it in the 
paper. As to White " — he shrugged his shoulders again — 
“we can't prevent people having private quarrels, and 
may be this Frenchman and White had one. My theory 
is, " he said, elaborating an idea which had only at that 


162 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


moment occurred to him, *Hhat Raoul, White, and this 
Jack o’ Judgment, were working together. May be it 
isn’t a bad thing that White was killed under the circum- 
stances. ” He dropped his hand on the other man’s 
shoulder and oozed geniality. ^‘Now, back you go, my 
lads, and don’t worry. Leave it to old Dan to fix Jack 
o’ Judgment, or Bill o’ Judgment, or Tom o’ Judgment, 
whoever he may be; and that we’ll fix him, you can be 
certain. ” 

Coming away from the meeting, he expressed himself 
as being perfectly satisfied with its results. He brought 
Pinto and Crewe back with him in his car, and dropped 
the latter at Piccadilly Circus. Pinto would have been 
glad to have joined the Swell, but the colonel detained 
him. 

want to talk to you, Pinto,” he said. 

^‘I’ve had enough business for today, ” said the Portu- 
guese. 

“So have I,” said the colonel, “but that doesn’t 
prevent my attending to pressing affairs. I was talking 
to you today — or was it yesterday — about Crotin. ” 

“The Yorkshire woolen merchant?” said Pinto. 

“That’s the fellow,” replied the colonel. “I suggested 
you should go and see him. ” 

“And I suggested that I shouldn’t,” said Pinto. “Let 
him alone. You’ll never get another chance like you 
had before.” 

“Alone, nothing,” said the colonel testily. “You’re 
scared because you imagine Crotin is warned? What do 
you think?” 

Pinto was silent. 

“I suppose you think that, because Jack o’ Judgment 


PINTO GOES NORTH 


163 


intervened at the right moment, he went back to York- 
shire feeling fine? Well, you’re wrong! You don’t under- 
stand one side of the psychology of this business. That 
little fellow is quaking in his shoes and wondering what 
his grand wife would say if the fact that he was a bigamist 
was revealed. And there’s more reason for his fear today 
than there was before. Look here!” 

He took a newspaper out of his pocket, and Pinto 
remembered that even during the meeting the colonel 
had twice made reference to its columns, and he had 
wondered why. He had suspected that there had been 
some reference to the Boundary gang, but this was not 
the case. The paragraph which the colonel pointed out 
with his thick forefinger was short. 

By the death of Sir George Tressillian Morgan an 
ancient baronetcy has become extinct. His estate, which 
has been estimated at over a million, passes to his niece. 
Lady Sybil Crotin, the daughter of Lord Westsevern, 
Sir George’s son and heir having died previously. Lady 
Sybil is the wife of a well-known Yorkshire mill owner.” 

“I didn’t know that,” said Pinto, interested in spite 
of himself. 

“Nor did I, till today,” said the colonel. “The fact is, 
this cursed Jack o’ Judgment has put everything else 
out of our minds. And you can see for yourself, Pinto, 
that this business is important.” 

Pinto nodded. 

“We are not only after the factory, but here’s a chance 
of making a real big coup. Now I can’t send anybody 
else to Yorkshire — Crewe is impossible. Crotin knows 
him, and the moment he put in an appearance, as likely 
as not, Crotin would lose his head and give the whole 


164 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


show away. It is you or nobody. He rubbed his chin 
thoughtfully. ^^You know there are times when I’m 
sorry about Solomon White/’ he said; ^^he was the boy 
for this kind of business — that is to say, in the old 
days — he got a bit scrupulous toward the end. ” 

Pinto was to find that the colonel had made all arrange- : 
ments, and that for the previous two days he had been 
planning a predatory raid on the Yorkshireman. 

There was to be a bazaar in Huddersfield on behalf 
of a local hospital, in which Lady Sybil Crotin took a 
great interest. She was organizing the fete and had 
invited subscriptions. 

^‘They’re not coming in very fast, according to their 
local paper,” said the colonel, “and that has given me 
an idea. You’re a presentable sort of fellow, Pinto, and 
it is likely you’ll be all the more successful because you’re. 
a foreigner. You’ll go up to Yorkshire and you’ll take 
a thousand pounds, and, if necessary, you’ll subscribe 
pretty liberally to the fund, but it must be done through 
Lady Sybil. You can make yourself known to her, 
and invite yourself to the house, where you can meet 
Crotin himself.” 

He made other suggestions, for he had worked out the 
whole scheme in detail for the other to carry into effect. 
Pinto’s objections slowly dissipated. He was a vain 
man and had all the vices of his vanity. A desire to be 
thought well of, to be regarded as a rich man when he 
was in fact on the verge of ruin, had brought him into 
crooked practices and eventually into the circle of the 
colonel’s acquaintances. 

To appear among the fair as a giver of largesse on a 
magnificent scale suited him down to the ground. It 


PINTO GOES NORTH 


165 


I was a part for which he was eminently fitted, as the 
I colonel, a shrewd judge of humanity, knew quite well. 

^H’ll do it/^ said Pinto. ^‘But do you think he’ll 
squeal?” 

Boundary shook his head. 

never knew a man who was caught on the rebound 
to squeal,” he said. ^^No, no, you needn’t worry about 
I that. All you have to do is to use your discretion, choose 
i the right moment, preparing him by a few hints for what 
! is coming, and you’ll find he’ll sit down, like the hard- 
headed business man he is, and talk money.” 

Pinto looked discontented. 

know what you’re thinking,” said the colonel; 
'^you hate the idea of the generous donor being unmasked 
and appearing to anybody as a blackmailer. Well, you 
needn’t worry about that. Lady Sybil will not know, 
nor will anybody else that counts. And, believe me, 
Crotin doesn’t count. Anyway, you can pretend that 
you’re a perfectly innocent agent in the matter, that you 
! know me slightly, and that I’ve dropped hints which 
! made you curious and which you are anxious to verify.” 

Pinto went off to make preparations for the journey. 
He had one of the top flats in the Albermarle Buildings, 

' a suite of rooms which, if they were not as expensively 
|! furnished as the colonel’s, were more artistic. He had 
i recently acquired the services of a new “daily valet” — 

I a step he could take without fear that his secrets would 
: be betrayed, since he had no secrets in his own rooms, 
kept no documents of any kind, and received no visitors. 

The man opened the door to his ring. 

“No, sir; nobody has been,” said the servant in 
Ij answer to his query, and Pinto was relieved. 


166 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


For the past two days he had been living in a condi- ' 
tion bordering on panic. It seemed unlikely that the ; 
colonePs confidence would be justified and that the police , 
would take no action. And yet the incredible had hap- ‘ 
pened. There had not been so much as an inquiry, and 
not once, though he had been on his guard, had he 
detected one shadow trailing him. His spirits rose and he 
whistled cheerfully as he directed the packing of his 
trunk, for he was traveling north, fully equipped for any 
social events which might await him. 

am going to Yorkshire,” he explained. ^Hfil give . 
you my address before I leave, and you can let me know , 
if there are any inquiries and who the inquirers were.” 

“Certainly, sir,” said the man respectfully, and Pinto 
eyed him approvingly. 

“I think youfil suit me. Cobalt,” he said. “My last 
valet was rather a fool and inclined to stick his nose into . 
business which did not concern him. ” 

The man smiled. 

“I shan’t trouble you that way, sir,” he said. 

“Of course, there’s nothing to hide,” said Pinto with 
a shrug, “but you know what people are. They think 
that because you’re associated in business with Colonel 
Boundary you’re up. to all sorts of tricks.” 

“That’s what Mr. Snakit said, sir,” remarked the man. 

“Snakit?” said the puzzled Pinto. “Who is Snakit?” ; I 

Then he remembered the little detective whom Maisie ! I 
had employed and who had been bought over by the ' | 
colonel. 

“ Oh, you see him, do you? ” he asked carelessly. ' 

“He comes up, sir, now and again. He’s the colonel’s 
valet, isn’t he, sir?” ; 


PINTO GOES NORTH 


167 


Pinto grinned. 

“Not exactly/^ he said. “I shouldn't discuss things 
with Snakit. That man is quite reliable and ” 

“Anyway, sir, I should not discuss your business,^’ said 
the valet with dignity. 

He finished packing and, after assisting his master 
to dress, was dismissed for the night. 

A useful fellow that,” thought Pinto, as the door closed 
behind the man. The “useful fellow” reached the street 
and, after walking a few hundred yards, found a dis- 
engaged taxi and gave an address. 

Maisie White was writing when her bell rang. It rang 
three times — two long and one short peals — and she 
went downstairs to admit her visitor. She did not speak 
until she was back in her room, and then she faced the 
polite little man whom Pinto had called Cobalt. 

“Well, Mr. Gray,” she said. 

“I wish you’d call me Cobalt, miss,” said the man, 
with a smile. “I like to keep up the name; otherwise 
I’m inclined to give myself away.” 

“Have you found anything?” 

“Very little, miss,” said the detective. “There’s 
nothing to find in the apartment itself.” 

“You secured the situation as valet?” 

He nodded. 

“Thanks to the recommendations you got me, miss, 
there was no difficulty at all. Silva wanted a servant, 
and accepted the testimonials without any question.” 

“And you’ve discovered nothing?” she said in a dis- 
appointed tone. 

“Not in Mr. Silva’s room. The only thing I found was 
that he is going to Yorkshire tomorrow.” 


168 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


*^For long?^^ she asked. 

^‘For some considerable time,” said the detective; 
^^at least, I guess so, because he has packed half a dozen 
suits, top hats, and all sorts of things which I should 
Imagine he wouldn’t take away unless he intended 
making a long stay. ” 

^‘Have you any idea of the place he’s going to?” 

^‘1 shall discover that tomorrow, miss,” said Cobalt. 
“I thought I’d tell you now as much as I know. ” 

“And you have not been into the colonel’s flat?” 

The man shook his head. 

“It is guarded inside and out, miss, now. He has not 
only his butler, who is a tough customer, to look after him, 
but he has Snakit, the man you employed, I understand. ” 

“That’s the fellow,” said the girl, with a grim little 
smile. “Very good. Cobalt. You’ll phone me if you 
make any other discoveries.” 

She was sitting at her solitary breakfast the next 
morning when the telephone bell rang. It was from a call 
office, and presently she heard Cobalt’s voice. 

“Just a word, miss. He leaves by the ten-twenty-five 
train for Huddersfield,” said the voice; “and the person 
he is going to see is Lady Sybil somebody, and there’s 
money in it.” 

“How do you know?” she asked quickly. 

“ I heard him speaking to the colonel on the landing, and 
I heard the words : ‘He’ll pay. ’ ” 

She thought a moment. 

“Ten-twenty-five,” she repeated. “Thank you very 
much, Mr. Cobalt.” 

She hung up the receiver and sat a moment in thought, 
then passed quickly to her bedroom and began to dress. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A PATRON OF CHARITY 

Lady Sybil Crotin was not a popular woman. She 
was conscious that she had married beneath her, more 
conscious lately that there had been no necessity to make 
the marriage, and she had grown a little soured. She 
could never mix with the homely wives of local million- 
aires; she professed a horror of the vulgarities with which 
she was surrounded; hated and loathed her lord and 
master’s flamboyant home, which she described as 
something between a feudal castle and a moving-picture 
palace; and openly despised her husband’s friends and 
their feminine relatives. 

She made a point of spending at least six months of 
the year away from Yorkshire, and came back with 
protest at her lot written visibly upon her face. 

A thin, angular woman, with pale-green eyes and 
straight, tight lips, she had never been beautiful, but 
flve or six years in an uncongenial environment had 
hardened and wasted her. That her husband adored her 
and never spoke of her save in a tone of awe was common 
property and a favorite subject for local humor. That 
she regarded him with contempt and irritation was as 
well known. 

In view of Lady Sybil Crotin’s unpopularity, it was 
perhaps a great mistake that she should make herself 
responsible for the raising of funds for the local women’s 
169 


170 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


hospital. But she was under the impression that there ' 
was a magic in her name and station, which would over- ^ 
come what she described as shyness, but which was in , 
point of fact the frank dislike of her neighbors. A sub- 
scription list that she had opened had a weak and un- . 
promising appearance. She had with the greatest diffi- 
culty secured help from the bazaar, and knew, even . 
though it had been opened by a duchess, that it was a 
failure even from the very first day. 

Had she herself made a generous contribution to the 
bazaar fund, there might have been a hope; but she was 
mean, and the big bleak hall she had chosen because of j 
its cheapness was quite unsuitable for the entertainment ' 
she sponsored. 

On the afternoon of the second day. Lady Sybil was ’ 
pulling on her gloves, eying her husband with an un- ^ 
friendly gaze as he sat at lunch. 

''It was no more than I expected,'’ she said bitterly. 

"I was a fool ever to start the thing. This is the last 
time I ever attempt to help local charities. ” 

Mr. Crotin rubbed his bald head in perplexity. 

"They’ll come,” he said hopefully, referring to the 
patrons whose absence was the cause of Lady Sybil’s : 
annoyance; "they’ll come when they hear what a fine ' 
show it is. And if they don’t, Syb, I’ll come along and 
spend a couple of hundred pounds myself. ” | 

"You’ll do no such thing,” she snapped. "And please J*, 
get out of that ridiculous habit of reducing my name to j'li 
one syllable. If the people of the town can’t help to p 
support their own hospital, then they don’t deserve to | 
have one, and I’m certainly not going to allow you to p 
waste our money on that sort of nonsense. ” I 


A PATRON OF CHARITY 


171 


“Have your own way, love,^' said Mr. Crotin meekly. 

“Besides,” she said, “it would be all over the town 
that it was your money which was coming in and these 
horrible people would be laughing at me.” 

She finished buttoning her gloves and was looking at 
him curiously. 

“What is the matter with you, John?” she asked 
suddenly, and he almost jumped. 

“With me, love?” he said with a brave attempt at a 
smile. “ Why, there^s nothing the matter with me. What 
should there be?” 

“You’ve been very strange lately,” she said; “ever 
since you came back from London.” 

“I think I ate something that disagreed with my 
digestion,” he said uneasily. “I didn’t know that I’d 
been different. ” 

“Are things well at your — factory?” she asked. 

“At mills? Oh, aye, they’re all right, ” he said. “ I wish 
everything was as right as them.” 

“As they,” she corrected. 

“As they,” said the humble Mr. Crotin. 

“There’s something wrong,” she said, and shook her 
head, and Mr. Crotin found himself going white. “I’ll 
have a talk with you when I’ve got this wretched bazaar 
business out of my head, ” she added, and with a little 
nod she left him. 

He walked to the window of the long dining hall and 
watched her car disappearing down the drive, and then 
with a sigh went back to his thoughts. 

When Colonel Dan Boundary surmised that this 
unfortunate victim of his blackmail would be worried, 
he was not far from the mark. Crotin had spent many 


172 


JACK JUDGMENT 


sleepless nights since he came back from London, nights 
full of terror, that left him a wreck to meet the fears of 
the days which followed. He lived all the time in the 
shadow of vengeful justice and exaggerated his danger 
to an incredible degree. Perhaps it was in anticipating 
what his wife would say that he experienced the most 
poignant misery. 

He had taken to secret drinking, too; little nips at 
odd intervals, both in his room and in his private office. 
Life had lost its savor, and now a new agony was added 
to the knowledge that his wife had detected the change. 
He went to his office and spent a gloomy afternoon 
wandering about the mills, and came back an hour before 
his usual time. He had not the heart to make a call at 
the bazaar, and speculated unhappily upon the proceeds 
of the afternoon session. 

It was therefore with something like pleasure that he 
heard his wife on the telephone speaking more cheerfully 
than he had heard her for months. 

“Is that you, John?” She was almost civil. “I^m 
bringing somebody home to dinner. Will you tell 
Phillips?” 

“That’s right, love,” said Mr. Crotin eagerly. 

He would be glad to see some new face, and that it was 
a new face he could guess by the interest in Lady Sybil’s 
tone. 

“ It is a Mr. de Silva. Have you ever met hfm? ” 

“No, love; I’ve not. Is he a foreigner? ” 

“He’s a Portuguese gentleman,” said his wife’s 
voice, “and he has been most helpful and most generous. ” 

“Bring him along, ” said Crotin heartily; “ I’ll be glad 
to meet him. How has the sale been, love?” 




h 


I 




A PATRON OF CHARITY 


173 


*^Very good, indeed,’^ she replied, ^‘splendid, in fact — 
thanks to Mr. de Silva. ” 

John Crotin was dressing when his wife returned, and 
it was not until half an hour later that he met Pinto 
Silva for the first time. Pinto was a man who dressed 
well and looked well. John Crotin thought he was the 
most impressive personality he had met when he stalked 
into the drawing-room and took the proffered hand of 
the little millionaire. 

^‘This is Mr. de Silva,” said his wife, who had been 
I waiting for her guest. ^^As I told you, John, Mr. de 
L Silva has been awfully kind. I don’t know what you’re 
going to do with all those perfectly useless things you’ve 
bought,” she added to the polished Portuguese, and 
Pinto shrugged his shoulders. 

I Give them away, ” he said. There must, for example 

I be a lot of poor women in the country who would be 
! glad of the linen I have bought. ” 

I At this point dinner was announced and he took 
I Lady Sybil in. The meal was approaching its end when 
K ae revived the question of the disposal of his purchases. 

“Are you greatly interested in charities, Mr. de Silva? ” 

Pinto inclined his head. 

I “Both here and in Portugal I take a very deep interest 
r in the welfare of the poor, ” he said solemnly. 

“That’s fine,” said Mr. Crotin, nodding approvingly. 

; “I know what these poor people have to suffer. I’ve 
r been among them.” 

His wife silenced him with a look. 

I “It frequently happens that cases are brought to my 
j notice,” Pinto went on. “I have one or two cases of 
j women in my mind where these purchases of mine would 


174 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


be most welcome. For example, I heard the other day, 
quite by accident, of a poor woman in Wales, whose 
husband deserted her.’^ 

Mr. Crotin had his fork halfway to his mouth, but 
put it down again. 

“I don’t know much about the case personally,” said 
Pinto carelessly, ‘‘but the circumstances were brought 
to my notice by a friend. I think these people suffer 
more than we imagine, and I’ll let you into a secret. 
Lady Sybil,” he said, speaking impressively. He did 
not look at Crotin but went on. “A few of my friends 
are thinking of buying a mill. ” 

“A woolen mill?” she said, raising her eyebrows. 

“A woolen mill,” he repeated. 

“But why?” she asked. 

“We wish to make garments and blankets for the 
benefit of the poor. We feel that, if we could run this 
sort of thing on a co-operative basis, we could manu- 
facture the stuff cheaply, always providing, of course, 
that we could purchase a mill at a reasonable figure.” 

For the first time he looked at Crotin, and the man’s 
face was ghastly white. 

“What a queer idea!” said Lady Sybil. “A good mill 
will cost you a lot of money. ” 

“We don’t think so,” said Pinto; “in fact, we expect 
to purchase a very excellent mill at a reasonable sum. 
That was my object in coming io Yorkshire, I may tell 
you, and it was only by accident that I saw the adver- 
tisement of your bazaar and called in. ” 

“A fortunate accident for us,” said Lady Sybil. 

Crotin’s eyes were on his plate and he did not raise 
them. 


A PATRON OF CHARITY 


175 


think it is a great mistake to be too generous with 
the poor,” said Lady Sybil, shaking her head; these 
women are very seldom grateful.” 

“I realize that,” said Pinto gravely, ''but I am not 
seeking their gratitude. We find that many of these 
women are in terrible circumstances owing to no fault 
of their own. For example, this woman in Wales, whose 
husband is supposed to have deserted her — now there 
is a bad case.” 

Lady Sybil was interested. 

'‘We found on investigation,” said Pinto, speaking 
slowly and impressively, "that the man who deserted 
her, has since married, and occupies a very important 
position in a town in the north of England. ” 

Mr. Crotin dropped his knife with a crash, and with 
a mumbled apology, picked it up. 

"But how terrible!” said Lady Sybil. , "What a 
shocking thing! The man should be exposed! He is not 
fit to associate with human beings. Can’t you do some- 
thing to punish him?” 

"That could be done,” said Silva; "it could be done, 
but it would bring a great deal of unhappiness to his 
present wife, who is ignorant of her husband’s treachery. ” 

"Better she knew now than knew later,” said the 
militant Lady Sybil. "I think you do very wrong to 
keep it from her. ” 

Mr. Crotin rose, and,, his wife looked at him with 
suspicion. 

"Aren’t you feeling well, John?” she asked with 
asperity. 

It was not the first time she had seen her husband’s 
hand shaking and had diagnosed the cause more justly 


176 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


than she was doing at present, for John Crotin had 
scarcely taken a drink that evening. 

going into the library if you’ll excuse me, love,” 
he said. Maybe Mr. — Mr. de Silva will join me. I’d 
— I’d like to talk over the question of that mill with 
him.” 

Pinto nodded. 

^‘Then run along now,” said Lady Sybil. '^And when 
you’ve finished talking, come back to me, Mr. de Silva. 
I want to know something about your charitable organi- 
zations in Portugal.” 

Pinto followed the other at a distance, saw him enter 
the big room and switch on the lights, and followed, 
closing the door behind him. 

Mr. Crotin’s library was the most comfortable room 
in the house. It was lighted by French windows which 
opened to a small terrace. Long, red velvet curtains 
were drawn, and a little fire crackled on the hearth. 

When the door closed Crotin turned upon his guest. 
‘‘Now,” he said harshly, “what’s your proposition? 
Make it a reasonable sum and I’ll pay you. ” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE SOLDIER WHO FOLLOWED 

i 

: In the train which had carried Pinto Silva to Hudders- 

I field were one or two remarkable passengers, and it was 
1 not a coincidence that they did not meet. In a third-class 
; carriage at the far end of the train was a soldier who 
j carried a kit bag and who whiled away the journey by 
‘ reading a seemingly endless collection of magazines. 

I He got out at Huddersfield, too, and Pinto might, 
j and probably did, see him as he passed through the 
I barrier. The soldier left his kit bag at the cloak room 
I and eventually became one of the two dozen people 
I who patronized Lady Sybil’s bazaar on that afternoon, 
j He passed Pinto twice, and once made a small purchase 
( at the same stall where the Portuguese was buying 
K lavishly. If Pinto saw him he did not remember the fact. 

|i One soldier looks very much like another, anyway. 

I Lady Sybil had reason to notice the representative 
\ of his majesty’s forces, and herself informed him severely 
1', that smoking was not allowed, and the man had put his 
\ cigarette under his heel with an apology and had walked 
^ out of the building. When Lady Sybil and her guest had 
I entered her car and were driven away to Mill Hall, the 
I soldier had been loitering near the entrance, and a few 
(minutes later he was following the party in a taxicab 
(which had been waiting at his order for the past two 
i hours. 


178 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


The taxi did not turn in at the stone-pillared gates 
of the Hall, but continued some distance beyond, when 
the soldier alighted, and, turning back, walked boldly 
through the main entrance and passed up the drive. It 
was dusk by now, and nobody challenged him. 

He made a reconnaissance of the house, and found the 
dining room without any difficulty. The blinds were up 
and the servants were setting the table. Then he passed 
around to the wing of the building and discovered the 
library. He actually went into that room, because it was 
one of Lady Sybil^s standing orders that the library 
should be “aired” and that the scent of Mr. Crotin’s ^ 
atrocious tobacco should be cleared out. 

He sniffed the stale fragrance and was satisfied that 
this was a room which was lived in. 

If there was any real confidential talk between the 
two men, it would be here, he thought, and looked 
round for a likely place of concealment. The room was 
innocent of cupboards. Only a big settee drawn diagon- 
ally across a corner of the room promised cover and that 
looked too dangerous. If anybody sat there and by 
chance dropped something — a pipe, an ash tray . - 

He walked back to the terrace to take his bearings ini* 
case he had to make a rapid exit. He looked around and|. 
then dropped suddenly to the cover of the balustrade,! 
for he had seen a dark figure moving across the lawn, and 
it was coming straight for the terrace. He slipped back' 
into the room, and as he did so he heard a step in the 
passage without. He stepped lightly over the settee and 
crouched down. 

It was evidently a servant, for he heard the French' 
windows closed and the clang of the shutters. They were^ 


THE SOLDIER WHO FQLLOWED 179 

evidently very ordinary folding shutters, fastened with 
an old-fashioned steel bar — he made a mental note of 
this. Then he heard the swish of the curtain rings upon 
the brass pole as the curtains were drawn. A dim light 
was switched on, somebody poked the fire and then the 
light was put out and the door closed softly. 

The intruder did some rapid thinking. He crossed 
to the nearest of the windows, noiselessly opened the 
shutters and pushed them back to the position in which 
they stood when not in use. Then he unlatched the 
French window and left it, hoping that it would not blow 
open and betray hixn. This done, he again pulled the 
heavy curtains across and returned to his place of con- 
cealment. That was to be the way out for him if the 
necessity for a rapid retreat should arise. 

There was no sound save the ticking of the clock and 
the noise of falling cinders for ten minutes, and then he 
heard something which brought him to the alert, aU his 
senses awakened and concentrated. It was the sound 
of a light and stealthy footstep on the terrace outside. 
He wondered whether it was a servant and whether he 
would see that one of the windows was unshuttered. 
He had half a mind to investigate, when there came 
another sound — a lumbering foot in the passage. Sud- 
! denly the door was opened, the lights were flashed on 
and the man behind the settee hugged the floor and held 
his breath. 

^‘How much do I want?” 

Pinto laughed and lit a cigarette. 

: '^My dear Mr. Crotin, I really don't know what you 
mean. ” 

! ''Let's have no more foolery,” said the Yorkshireman 


180 


JACK 0 JUDGMENT 


roughly. know that youVe come up from Colonel 
Boundary, and I know what youVe come for. You want 
to buy my mill, eh? Well, I’ll make it worth your while 
not to buy my mill. You can take the money instead. ” 

“I really am honest when I tell you that I don’t under- 
stand what you are talking about. I have certainly come 
up to buy a mill — that is true. It is also true that I 
want to buy your miU. ” 

^^And what might you be thinking of paying for it?” 
asked Crotin between his teeth. 

^‘Twenty thousand pounds,” said Pinto nonchalantly. 

Twenty thousand, eh? It was thirty thousand the 
last time. You’ll want me to give it to you soon. Nay, 
nay, my friend, I’ll pay, but not in mills.” 

‘‘Think of the poor,” murmured Pinto. 

“I’m thinking of them, ” said the other. “I’m thinking 
of the poor woman in Wales too, and the poor woman 
in there.” He jerked his head. Then, in a calmer tone: 
“I guessed at dinner where you came from. Colonel 
Boundary sent you.” 

Pinto shrugged his shoulders. 

“Let us mention no names,” he said politely. “And 
who is Colonel Boundary anyway?” 

Crotin was at his desk now. He had taken out his 
check book and slapped it down upon the writing pad. 

You ve got me,” he said, and his voice quavered. 
“I’ll make an offer to you. I’ll give you fifty thousand 
pounds if you write an agreement that you will not molest 
or bother me again.” 

There was a silence, and the soldier crouched behind 
the settee, listening intently. He heard Pinto laugh 
softly as one who is greatly amused. 


THE SOLDIER WHO FOLLOWED 


181 


‘'That, my good friend, said Pinto, "would be black- 
mail. You don’t imagine that I would be guilty of such 
an iniquity? I know nothing about your past; I merely 
suggest that you should sell me one of your mills ’at a 
reasonable price.” 

Twenty thousand pounds is reasonable for you, I 
suppose,” said Crotin sarcastically. 

I "It is a lot of money,” replied Pinto, 
j The Yorkshireman pulled open the drawer of his desk 
i and slammed in the check book, closing it with a bang. 

"Well, 111 give you nothing,” he said, "neither mill 
i nor money. You can clear out of here.” 

He crossed the room to the telephone. 

"What are you going to do?” asked Pinto, secretly 
alarmed. 

■ "I’m going to send for the police,” said the other 
I grimly. "I’m going to give myself up and I’m going to 
; have you arrested, too!” 

If Crotin had turned the handle of the old-fashioned 
I telephone, if he had continued in his resolution, if he had 
shown no sign of doubt, a different story might have 
been told. But with his hand raised, he hesitated, and 
Pinto clinched his argument. 

"Why have all that trouble?” he said. "Your liberty 
! and reputation are much more to you than a mill. You’re 
1 a rich man. Your wife is wealthy in her own right. You 
I have enough to live on for the rest of your life. Why 
i make trouble?” 

The little man dropped his head with a groan and 
I walked wearily back to the desk. 

" Suppose I sell this, ” he said in a low voice, "how do I 
I know you won’t come again?” 


182 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


^ ** When a gentleman gives his word of honor, ” began 
Pinto with dignity, but was interrupted by a shrill laugh 
that made his blood run cold. 

He swung round with an oath. Framed in an opening 
of the curtains which covered one of the windows was 
The Figure. 

The black silk gown, the white masked face, the soft . 
felt hat, pulled down over the eyes. His teeth chattered ' 
at the sight of it, and he fell back against the wall. 

^‘Who wouldn’t trust Pinto?” squeaked the voice. ■ 
^^Who wouldn’t take Pinto’s word of honor! Jack o’ 
Judgment wouldn’t, poor old Jack o’ Judgment!” 

Jack o’ Judgment! The soldier behind the settee heard ' 
the words and gasped. Without any thought of conse- 
quence he raised his head and looked. The Jack o’ ' 
Judgment was standing where he expected him to be. 
He had come through the window which the soldier had . 
left unbarred. This time he carried no weapon in his 
hand, and Pinto was quick to see the possibilities. The 
electric switch was within reach, and his hand shot out. 
There was a click and the room went dark. 

But the figure of Jack o’ Judgment was silhouetted 
against the night, and Pinto whipped out the long knife ' 
which never left him and sent it hurtling at his enemy. I 
He saw the figure duck, heard the crash of broken glass,' ] 
and then Jack o’ Judgment vanished. In a rage which i: 
was three parts terror, he sprang through the open door ^ 
onto the terrace in time to see a dark figure drop ovej- the ' 
balustrade and fly across the park. | 

I 

1 

i 

\ 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE CAPTURE OF “jACK^' 

Pinto leaped the parapet and was following swiftly 
in its wake. He guessed rather than knew that for once 
Jack o' Judgment had come unarmed, and a wild exulta- 
tion filled him at the thought that it was left to him to 
unveil the mystery which was weighing even upon the 
iron nerve of the colonel. 

The figure gained the shrubbery, and the pursuer heard 
the rustle of leaves as it plunged into the depths. In a 
second he was blundering after. He lost sight of his 
quarry and stopped to listen. There was no sound. 

“Hiding," Pinto grunted. And then aloud: “Come 
out of it. I see you and Pll shoot you like a dog if you 
don't come to me!" 

There was no reply. He dashed in the direction he 
thought Jack o' Judgment must have taken, and again 
missed. With a curse he turned off in another directon 
and then suddenly glimpsed a shape before him and 
leaped at it. He was fiung back with little or no effort 
and stood bewildered, for the coat his hand had touched 
was rough, and he had felt metal buttons. 

“A soldier!" he gasped. “Who are you?" 

“Steady," said the other; “don't get rattled, Pinto." 

“Who are you?" asked Pinto again. 

“My name is Stafford King," said the soldier, “and 
I think I shall want you. " 

Pinto half turned to go, but was gripped. 

183 


184 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


'^You can go back to Huddersfield and pack your 
boxes,” said Stafford King; “you won’t leave the town 
except by my permission.” 

“What do you mean?” demanded JPinto, breathing 
heavily. 

“I mean,” said Stafford King, “that the unfortunate 
man you blackmailed must prosecute you, whatever 
be the consequence to himself. Now, Pinto, you’ve a 
grand chance of turning king’s evidence. ” 

Pinto made no reply. He was collecting his thoughts. 
Then, after a while, he said : 

“I’ll talk about that later. King. I’m staying at the 
Huddersfield Arms. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” 

Stafford King did not move until the sound of Pinto’s 
footsteps had died away. Then he began a systematic 
search, for he, too, was anxious to end the mystery of 
Jack o’ Judgment. He had followed Pinto when he had 
dashed from the room, and had heard the Portuguese 
calling upon Jack o’ Judgment to surrender. That 
mysterious individual, who was obviously lying low, 
could not be very far away. 

He was in a shrubbery which proved later to be a 
clump of rhododendrons, in the center of which was a 
summer-house. To the heart of this shrubbery led three 
paths, one of which Stafford discovered quite close at 
hand. The sound of gravel under his feet gave him an 
idea, and he began walking backwards till he came to the 
shadow of a tree, and then, simulating the sound of 
retreating footsteps, he waited. Presently he heard a 
rustle but did not move. 

Somebody was coming cautiously through the bushes, 
and that somebody appeared as a shadowy, indistinct 


THE CAPTURE OF ^^JACK” 


185 


figure not twenty yards away. Only the keenest eye- 
sight could have detected it, and still Stafford waited. 
Presently he heard the soft crunch of gravel under his 
feet and at that moment leaped toward it. The figure 
stood as though paralyzed for a second, and then, turn- 
ing quickly, fied back to the heart of the bushes. Before 
it had gone a dozen paces Stafford had reached it, and his 
arm was about its neck. 

^^My friend,” he breathed. “I don’t know what I’m 
to do with you now I’ve got you, but I certainly am 
going to register your face for future reference.” 

‘‘No, no,” said a muffled voice from behind the mask, 
“no, no, don’t, I beg of you!” 

But the mask was plucked away, and, fumbling in his 
pocket, Stafford produced his electric lamp and flashed 
it on the face of his prisoner. Then, with a cry of amaze- 
ment, he stepped back — for he had looked upon the 
face of Maisie White! \ 

For a moment there was silence, neither speaking. 
Then Stafford found his voice. 

“Maisie!” he said in bewilderment. “Maisie! You 
Jack o’ Judgment?” 

She did not answer. 

“Phew!” whistled Stafford. 

Then, sitting on a trunk, he laughed. 

“It is Maisie, of all people in the world. And I sus- 
pected it, too!” 

The girl had covered her face with her hands and was 
crying softly, and he moved toward her and put his arm 
about her shoulder. 

“Darling, it is nothing very terrible. Please don’t go 
on like that. ” 


186 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


you donT understand, you donT understand!^' 
she wailed. “I wanted to catch Silva. I guessed that he 
was coming north on one of his blackmailing trips, and 
I followed him." 

“Did you come up by the same train?" 

He felt her nod. 

“So did I," said Stafford with a little grin. 

“I followed him to the bazaar," she said, “and then 
I watched him from a little eating house on the opposite 
side of the road. Do you know, I wondered whether 
you were here, too, and I looked everywhere for you, but 
apparently there was nobody in sight when Pinto came 
out with Lady Sybil, only a soldier." 

“I was that soldier," said Stafford. 

“I discovered where Mr. Crotin lived and came up 
later," she went on. “Of course, I had no very clear 
idea of what I was going to do, and it was only by the 
greatest luck that I found the window of the library open. 
It was the only window open," she said with a laugh. 

“It wasn’t so much your luck as my forethought." 
Stafford smiled. 

“Now I want to tell you about Jack o^ Judgment," 
she began, but he stopped her. 

“Let that explanation wait," he said. “The point is, 
that with your evidence and mine, we have Pinto by the 
throat. What was that?" 

There was the sound of a shot. 

“Probably a poacher," said Stafford after a moment; 
“I can’t imagine Pinto using a gun. Besides, I don’t 
think he carries one. What did he throw at you? " 

“A knife," she said, and he felt her shiver; “it just 
missed me. But tell me, how have we got Pinto?" 


THE CAPTURE OF ^‘JACK’^ 


187 


They had left the shrubbery and were walking toward 
the house. She stopped a little while to take off her long 
black cloak, and he saw that she was wearing a shirt- 
skirted dress beneath. / 

“We must compel Crotin to prosecute,” said Stafford. 
“With our evidence nothing can save Pinto, and prob- 
ably he will drag in the colonel, too. Even your evidence 
isn’t necessary,” he said, after a moment’s thought, 
“and if it is possible, I will keep you out of it.” 

A woman’s scream interrupted him. 

“There’s trouble there,” he said, and raced for the 
house. Somebody was standing on the terrace as he 
approached, and hailed him excitedly. 

“Is that you, Terence?” 

I It was a servant’s voice. 

I “No,” replied Stafford; “I am a police officer.” 

“Will you come up, sir?” said the man on the terrace. 
“I thought it was the gamekeeper I was speaking to.” 

“What is the matter?” asked Stafford, as he vaulted 
over the parapet. 

“Mr. Crotin has shot himself, sir,” said the butler in 

1 quavering tones. 

Twelve hours later Stafford King reported to his chief, 
giving the details of the overnight tragedy. 

“Poor fellow!” said Sir Stanley. “I was afraid of it 
ending that way.’^ 

“Did you know he was being blackmailed?” asked 
Stafford. 

Sir Stanley nodded. 

“We had a report which apparently emanated from 
Jack o’ Judgment, who of late has started sending his 


188 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


communications to me direct,” said Sir Stanley. "You 
can, of course, do nothing to Pinto. Your evidence isn’t 
sufficient. What a pity you hadn’t a second witness!” 
He thought for a moment. "Even then it wouldn’t have 
been sufficient unless we had Crotin to support you.” 
Stafford cleared his throat. 

“I have a second witness, sir,” he said. 

"You have?” Sir Stanley raised his eyebrows. "Who 
was your second witness?” 

"Jack o’ Judgment,” said Stafford, and Sir Stanley 
jumped to his feet. 

"Jack o’ Judgment?” he repeated. "What do you 
mean?” 

"Jack o’ Judgment was there,” said Stafford, and told 
the story of the rerparkable appearance of that mysterious 
figure. 

He told everything, reserving the identification of ' 
^^Jack” till the last. 

"And then you flashed the lamp on his face,” said 
Sir Stanley. "Well, who was it?” 

"Maisie White, ” said Stafford. 

^^Good Lord!^^ 

Sir Stanley walked to the window and stood looking 
out, his hands thrust into his pockets. Presently he • 
turned. 

"There’s a bigger mystery here than I suspected ” 
he said. "Have you asked Miss White for an explan’a- 
tion?’' 

Stafford shook his head. 

"I thought it best to report the matter to you sir 
before I asked her to '' ^ 

"To incriminate herself, eh? Well, perhaps you did 


THE CAPTURE OF 


189 


wisely, perhaps you did not. I should imagine that her 
explanation is a very simple one. 

“What do you mean, sir?^^ 

“I mean,'' said Sir Stanley, 'Hhat unless Jack o' 
Judgment has the gift of appearing in two places at once, 
she is not Jack." 

“But I don't understand, sir." 

“I mean," said Sir Stanley, “that Jack o' Judgment 
was in the colonel's room last night, was in fact sitting 
by the colonel's bedside when that gentleman awoke; 
and according to the statement which Colonel Boundary 
made to me about two hours ago in this room, warned 
him of his approaching end." 

It was Stafford’s turn to be astonished. 

“Are you sure, sir?" he asked incredulously. 

“Absolutely!" said Sir Stanley. ^^You don't imagine 
that the colonel would invent that sort of thing? For 
some reason or other, possibly to keep close to the trouble 
that's coming, the colonel insists upon bringing all his 
little chitchat to me. He asked for an interview about 
ten o'clock this morning and reported to me that he 
had had this visitation. Moreover, the experience has 
, had the effect of upsetting the colonel, and for the first 
time he seems to be thoroughly rattled. Where is Miss 
White?" 

“She's here, sir." 

“Here, eh? " said the commissioner. “So much the 
: better. Can you bring her in?" 

A few minutes later the girl sat facing the first com- 
missioner. 

I “Now, Miss White, we're going to ask you for a few 
facts about your masquerade," said Sir Stanley kindly. 


190 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


understand that you appeared wearing the costume, 
and giving a fairly good imitation of the voice of Jack 
o^ Judgment. Now I’m telling you before we go any 
further that I do not believe for one moment that you are 
Jack o’ Judgment. Am I right?” 

She nodded. 

‘^Perfectly true, Sir Stanley,” she said. don’t know 
why I did such a mad thing, except that I knew Pinto 
was scared of him. I got the cloak from my dress basket 
and made the mask myself. You see, I didn’t know 
whether I might want it, but I thought that in a tight 
pinch, if I wished to terrify this man, that was the role 
to assume. ” 

Sir Stanley nodded. 

And the voice, of course, was easy. ” 

'^But how could you imitate the voice if you have 
never seen Jack o’ Judgment?” 

‘G saw him once. ” She shivered a little. You seem 
to forget. Sir Stanley, that he rescued me from that 
dreadful house. ” 

“ Of course, ” said Sir Stanley. ''And you imitated him, 
did you? ” He turned to his subordinate. " I’m accepting 
Miss White’s explanation, Stafford, and I advise you to 
do the same. She went up to watch Silva, as I understand, 
and took the costume with her as a sort of protection. 
Well, Miss White, are you satisfied with your detective 
work? ” 

She smiled ruefuUy. 

"I’m afraid I’m a failure as a detective,” she said. 

"I’m afraid you are.” Sir Stanley laughed as he rose 
and offered his hand. "There is only one real detective 
in the world — and that is Jack o’ Judgment!” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE PASSING OF PHILLOPOLIS 

If Pinto Silva had a hobby, it was the Orpheum 
Theater. The Orpheum had been in low water and had 
come into the market at a moment when theatrical 
managers and proprietors were singularly unenterprising 
and money was short. Pinto had bought the property 
for a song, and had converted his purchase into a moder- 
ate success. The theater served a double purpose; it 
provided Pinto with a hobby, and offered an excuse for 
his wealth. Since it was a one-man show, and he pro- 
duced no balance sheet, his contemporaries could only 
make a guess as to the amount of money he made. If the 
truth be told, it was not very large, but small as it was, 
its dividends more or less justified his own leisure. 

There had been one or two scandals about the Orpheum 
which had reached the public press — scandals of a not 
particularly edifying character. But Pinto had managed 
to escape public opprobrium. 

The Orpheum, at any rate, helped to baffle the police, 
who saw Silva living at the rate of twenty thousand a 
year, and were unable to trace the source of his income. 
That he had estates in Portugal was known; but they had 
been acquired, apparently, on the profits of the music 
hall. He was not a speculator, though he was a share- 
holder in a number of companies which were controlled 
191 


192 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


by the colonel; and he was certainly not a gambler, in 
the generally accepted sense of the term. 

While he was suspected of being intimately connected j 
with several shady transactions, he could boast truly ; 
that there was not a scrap of evidence to associate him j 
with any breach of the law. He was less inclined to boast jj 
that evening, when he turned into the stage box at the ^ 
Orpheum, and, pulling his chair into the shadow of the 
draperies, sat back and considered his position. He had 7 
returned from Yorkshire in a panic, and had met the ^ 
fury of the colonel’s reproaches. It was the worst quarter 
of an hour that Pinto had ever spent with his superior, ^ 
and the memory made hin;, shiver. 

The stage box at the Orpheum was never sold to any 
member of the public. It was Pinto’s private possession, f 
his sitting room and his office. He sat, watching with ;; 
gloomy interest the progress of the little revue which was ^ 
a feature of the Orpheum programme, and his mind was 
occupied by a very pressing problem. He was shaken, ,, 
too, by the interview he had had with the Pluddersfield ^ 
police. 1 

He had had to fake a story to explain why he left the ^ 
library, and why, in his absence, Mr. Crotin had com- 
mitted suicide. Fortunately he had returned to the house ■ 
by the front hall, and was in the hall inventing a story of i 
burglars to the agitated Lady Sybil, when they had heard , 
the shot which ended the wretched life of the bigamist. ; 
That had saved him from being suspected of actual > 
complicity in the crime. Suppose they had — he grew 
cold at the thought. 

There was a knock on the door of the box, and an r 
attendant put in his head. 


THE PASSING OF PHILLOPOLIS 


193 


^‘There’s a gentleman to see you, sir,’^ he said. “He 
says he has an appointment. 

“What is his name?” 

“Mr. Cartwright.” 

Pinto nodded. 

“Show him in, please,” he said and dismissed all 
unpleasant thoughts. 

The newcomer proved to be a dapper little man with a 
weather-beaten face. He was in evening dress, and spoke 
like a gentleman. 

“ I had your letter, Mr. Silva, ” he said. “You received 
my telephone message?” 

“Yes,” said Silva. “I wanted to see you particularly. 
You understand that what I say is wholly confiden- 
tial?” 

“That I understand,” said the man called Cartwright. 

He took Pinto’s proffered cigarette and lit it. 

“I have been reading about you in the papers,” said 
C’into. “You’re the man who did the non-stop fiight for 
the Western Aeroplane Company?” 

“That’s right.” Cartwright smiled. “I have done 
many long flights. I suppose you are referring to my 
San Sebastian trip?' 

Pinto nodded. 

“Now I want to ask you a few questions, and if they 
seem to be prying or personal you must believe that I 
have no other wish than to secure information which is 
vital to myself. What position do you occupy with the 
Western Company?” 

Cartwright shrugged his shoulders. 

am a pilot, ” he said. “ If you mean, am I a director 
of the firm or am I interested in the company, financially, 


194 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


I regret that I must answer no. I wish I were/' he 
added, “but I am merely an employee." 

Pinto nodded. 

“That is what I wanted to know," he said. “Now 
here is another question. What does a first-class aero- 
plane cost?" 

“It depends," said the other. “A long-distance 
machine, such as I have been flying, would cost anything 
up to five thousand pounds. " 

“ Could you buy one? Are they on the market? " asked 
Pinto quickly. 

“I could buy a dozen tomorrow," said the other 
promptly, " and I know just where I could get one machine 
of the best in Britain. " 

Pinto was looking at the stage, biting his lips thought- 
fully. 

“I’ll tell you what I want," he said. “I am not very 
keenly interested in aviation, but it may be necessary 
that I should return to Portugal in a great hurry. It is no 
news to you that we Portuguese are generally in the 
throes of some revolution or other." 

“So I understand," the pilot said, with a twinkle in 
his eye. 

“In those circumstances," Pinto went on, “it may be 
necessary for me to leave this country without going 
through the formality of securing a passport. I want a 
machine which will carry me from London to, say, 
Cintra, without a stop, and I want a pilot who can take 
me across the sea by the direct route. " 

Across the Bay of Biscay?" asked the aviator in 
surprise, and Pinto nodded. 

“I should not want to touch any other country en 


THE PASSING OF PHILLOPOLIS 


195 


route, for reasons which, I tell you frankly, are 
political.” 

Cartwright thought a moment. 

“Yes, I think I can get you the machine, and Fm 
certain I can find you the pilot,” he said. 

“To put it bluntly,” said Pinto, “would you take on 
an engagement for twelve months, secure the machine, 
house it and have it ready for me? I will pay you liber- 
ally.” He mentioned a sum which satisfied the airman. 
“It must not be known that the machine is mine. You 
must buy it and keep it in your own name. ” 

“There’s no difficulty about that,” said Cartwright. 
“Am I to understand that I must go ahead with the 
purchase of the aeroplane?” 

“You can start right away,” said Pinto; “the sooner 
you have the machine ready for a flight, the better. I 
am here almost every night, and I will give orders to the 
ticket collectors that you are to come to me whenever 
you want. If you will meet me here tomorrow morning, 
say at eleven o’clock, I can give you cash for the purchase 
of the machine, and I shall be happy to pay you half a 
year’s salary in advance. ” 

“It will take some time to finish up my old job,” said 
Cartwright thoughtfully, “but I think I can do it for 
you. At any rate, I can get time off to buy the machine. 
You say that you do not want anybody to know that it 
is yours?” 

Pinto nodded. 

“Well, that’s easy,” said the other. “I’ve been think- 
ing about buying a machine of my own for some time, 
and have made inquiries in several quarters. ” 

He rose to leave and shook hands. 


196 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Remember/’ said Pinto as a final warning, ''not a 
word about this to any human soul.” 

"You can trust me,” said the man. 

Pinto watched the rest of the play with a lighter heart. 
After all, there could be nothing very much to fear. 
What had thrown him off his balance for the moment 
was the presence of Stafford King in Yorkshire, and when 
that detective did not make his appearance either at 
the police inquiry nor seek him in his hotel, it looked as 
though the colonel’s words were true and that Scotland 
Yard were after Boundary himself and none other. 

He sat the performance through and then went to his 
club — an institution off Pall Mall, which had been quite 
satisfied to accept Pinto to membership, without making 
any too close inquiries as to his antecedents. 

He spent some time before the stock ticker, watching 
the news tick forth, then strolled into the smoking-room , 
and read the evening papers for the second time. Only 
one item of news really interested him. It had interested 
the colonel, too. The diamond smith’s premises in Regent 
Street had been burgled the night before and the con- 
tents of the safe taken. The colonel had arrested his 
flow of vituperation to speculate as to the "artist” who 
had carried out this neat job. 

Pinto read for a little while, then threw the papers 
down. He wondered what made him so restive, and why 
he was so anxious to find something to occupy his atten- 
tion, and then he realized with a start that he did not 
want to go back to face Colonel Boundary. It was the 
first time he had ever experienced this sensation, and he 
did not like it. He had held his place in the gang, by the 
assurance, which was also an assumption, that he was 


THE PASSING OF PHILLOPOLIS 197 


at least the colonel’s equal. This irritated him. He put 
on his overcoat and turned into the street. 

It was a chilly night, and a thin drizzle of rain was 
falling. He pulled up his coat collar and looked about for 
a taxicab. Neither outside the club nor in Pall Mall was 
one visible. 

He started to walk home, but still felt that disinclina- 
tion to face the colonel. Then a thought struck him; he 
I would go and see Phillopolis, the little Greek. 

Phillopolis patronized a night club in Soho, where he 
was usually to be found between midnight and two in 
the morning. Having an objective, Pinto felt in a happier 
! frame of mind and walked briskly the intervening dis- 
tance. He found his man sitting at a little marble-topped 
1 table by himself, contemplating a half bottle of sweet 
champagne and a half-filled glass. He was evidently 
deep in thought, and started violently when Pinto 
addressed him. 

“Sit down,” he said with evident relief. “I thought 
it was — — ” 

What did you think it was? You thought it was the 
police, I suppose?” said Pinto with heavy jocularity, and 
to his amazement he saw the little man wince. 

“What has happened to Colonel Boundary?” asked 
the Greek irritably. “There used to be a time when any- 
body he spoke for was safe. I’m getting out of this 
country, and I’m getting out quick,” he added. 

“Why?” asked Pinto, who was vitally interested. 

The Greek threw out his hands with a little grimace. 

I “Nerves,” he said. “I haven’t got over that bungled 
job of the White girl. ” 

“Pooh!” said the other. “If the police were moving 


198 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


in that matter they’d have moved long ago. You’re 
worrying yourself unnecessarily, Phillopolis. ” 

De Silva’s words slipped glibly from his tongue, but 
Phillopolis was unimpressed. 

I know when I’ve had enough, ” he said. “I’ve got my 
passports and I m clearing out at the end of this week. ” 

*‘Does the colonel know this?” 

The Greek raised his shoulders indifferently. 

don’t know whether he does or whether he doesn’t, ” 
he said; “anyway. Boundary and I are only remotely 
connected in business, and my movements are no affairs 
of his.” 

He looked curiously at the other. 

“I wonder that a man like you, who is in the heart of 
things, stays on when the net is drawing round the old 
man.” 

“Loyalty is a vice with me,” said Pinto virtuously; 

“ besides, there’s no reason to run away — as yet. ” 

“I’m going while I’m safe,” said Phillopolis, sipping 
his champagne. “At present the police have nothing 
against me, and I’m going to take good care they have 
nothing. That’s where I’ve the advantage of people like 
you. ” 

Pinto smiled. 

“You’ve nothing on me,” he said easily; “I have an 
absolutely clean record. ” 

It disturbed him, however, to discover that even so 
minor a member of the gang as Phillopolis was preparing 
to desert what he evidently regarded as a sinking ship. 
More than this, it confirmed him in the wisdom of his own 
precautions, and he was rather glad that he had taken 
it into his head to visit Phillopolis on that night. 


THE PASSING OF PHILLOPOLIS 199 


‘'When do you leave?” he asked. 

"The day after tomorrow,” said Phillopolis. "I think 
1 11 go down into Italy for a year. IVe made enough 
money now to live without worrying about work, and I 
mean to enjoy myself.” 

Pinto looked at the man with interest. Here, at any 
rate, was one without a consci^.?b. The knowledge that 
he had accumulated his fortune through the miseries 
of innocent girls shipped to foreign dance halls did not 
weigh greatly upon his mind. Though every penny he 
had stood for the sob of heart-broken womanhood, 
though his big bank balance had been built up on broken 
lives and broken hearts, he thought no more of the source 
of his income than did the butcher think of the suffer- 
ings of the lambs he had slaughtered and offered for sale. 

"Lucky you!” said Pinto, as they walked out of the 
club together. "Where do you live, by the way?” 

" In Somers Street, Soho. It is just around the corner, ” 
said Phillopolis. "Will you walk there with me? ” 

Pinto hesitated. 

"Yes, I will,” he said. 

He wanted to see the sort of establishment which 
Phillopolis maintained. They chatted together till they 
came to the street, and then Phillopolis stopped. 

"Do you mind if I go ahead?” he said. "I have a — 
friend there who might be worried by your coming.” 

Pinto smiled to himself. 

“Certainly,” he said. "I^U wait on the opposite side 
of the road until you are ready. ” 

The man lived above a big furniture shop, and 
admission was gained by a side door. Pinto watched him 
pass through the portals and heard the door close. He 


200 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


was a long time gone, and evidently his friend was 
unprepared to receive visitors at that hour, or else 
Phillopolis himself had some reason for postponing the 
invitation. 

The reason for the delay was explained in a sensational 
manner. Suddenly the door opened and a man came 
out. He was followed by two others, and between them 
was Phillopolis, and the street lamp shone upon the steel 
handcuffs on his wrists. Pinto drew back into a doorway 
and watched. Phillopolis was talking — it would per- 
haps be more accurate to say that he was raving — 
at the top of his voice, cursing and sobbing in a frenzy. 

'‘You planted them — it is a plant!'' he yelled. “You 
devils!" 

“Are you coming quietly," said a voice, “or are you 
going to make trouble? Take him, Dempsey!" 

Phillopolis seemed to have forgotten Pinto's presence, 
for he went out of the street without once calling upon 
him to testify to his character and innocence. Pinto 
waited till he was gone, and then strolled across the 
road to the detective who stood before the door lighting 
his pipe. 

“Good evening," he said. “Has there been some 
trouble?" 

The officer looked at him suspiciously. But Pinto was 
in evening dress and talked like a gentleman, and the 
policeman thawed. 

“Nothing very serious, sir," he said, “except for the 
man. He's a ‘fence.' " 

“A what?" said Pinto with well-feigned innocence. 

“A receiver of stolen property. We found his lodgings 
full of stuff." 


THE PASSING OF PHILLOPOLIS 201 


“Good heavens gasped Pinto. 

“Yes, sir/^ said the man, delighted that he had created 
a sensation; “I never saw so much valuable property in 
one room in my life. There was a big burglary in Regent 
Street last night. A jeweler’s shop was cleaned out of 
about twenty thousand pounds’ worth of necklaces, and 
we found every bit of it here tonight. We’ve always 
suspected this man, ” he went on confidentially; “nobody 
knew how he got his living, but from information we 
received today we were able to catch him red-handed.” 

“Thank you,” said Pinto faintly and walked slowly 
home, for now he no longer feared to meet the colonel. 
He had something to tell him, something that would 
inspire even Boundary with apprehension. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE VOICE IN THE BOOM 

As Silva anticipated, the colonel was up and waiting 
for him. He was playing patience on his desk and 
looked up with a scowl as the Portuguese entered. 

‘‘So youVe been sulking, have you, Pinto?” he began, 
but the other interrupted him. 

“You can keep all that talk for another time,” he 
said. “ They’ve taken Phillopolis ! ” 

The colonel swept his cards aside with a quick, nervous 
gesture. 

“Taken Phillopolis?” he repeated slowly. “On what 
charge? ” 

“For being the receiver of stolen property,” said the 
other. “They found the proceeds of the Regent Street 
burglary in his apartments.” 

The colonel opened his mouth to speak, then shut it 
again, and there was silence for two or three minutes. 

“I see. They’ve planted the stuff on him, have they?” 

“What do you mean?” asked Pinto. 

“You don’t suppose that Phillopolis is a fence, do 
you?” said the colonel scornfully. “Why, it is a business 
that a man must spend the whole of his life at before he 
can be successful. No, Phillopolis knows no more about 
that burglary or the jewels than you or I. The stuff has 
been planted in his rooms.” 

“But the police don’t do that sort of thing.” 

202 


THE VOICE IN THE ROOM 


203 


“Who said the police did it?” snarled the colonel. 
“Of course they didn’t; they haven’t the sense. That’s 
Mr. Jack o’ Judgment once more, and this time, Pinto 
he’s real dangerous.” ’ 

“Jack o’ Judgment!” gasped Pinto. “But would he 
commit a burglary? ” 

The colonel laughed scornfully. 

'‘Would he commit murder? Would he hang Raoul? 
Would he shoot you? Don’t ask such fool questions, 
Silva! Of course it was Jack o’ Judgment. I tell you' 
the night you were in Yorkshire making a mess of that 
Crotin business, Jack o’ Judgment came here, to this 
very room, and told me that he would ruin us one by 
one and that he would leave me to the last. He mentioned 
us all — you, Crewe, Selby — ” He stopped suddenly 
and scratched his chin. “But not Lollie Marsh,” he said. 
“That’s queer; he never mentioned Lollie Marsh!” 

He was deep in thought for a few moments, then he 
went on : 

“So he’s done for Phillopolis, has he? Well, Phillopolis 
has got to take his medicine. I can do nothing for him.” 

“But surely he can prove — ” began Pinto. 

“What can he prove?” asked the other. “Can he 
prove how he earns his money? He’s been taken with 
the goods; he hasn’t that chance.” He snapped his fingers. 
“I’ll make a prophecy,” he said; “Phillopolis will get 
five years penal servitude, and nothing in the world can 
save him from that.” 

“An innocent man!” said Pinto in amazement. 
“Impossible!” 

“But is he innocent?” asked the colonel sourly. 
“That’s the point you’ve got to keep in your mind. He 


204 


JACK O' JUDGMENT 


may be innocent of one kind of crookedness and be so 
mixed up in another that he cannot prove he is innocent 
of either. That's where they've got this fellow. He 
dare not appeal to the people who know him best, 
because they'd give him away." 

He squatted back in his chair, pulling at his mustache. 

^‘‘Phillopolis, Crewe, Pinto, Selby and then me," he 
said speaking to himself, ^‘and he never mentioned 
Lollie Marsh. And Lollie has been the decoy duck that 
has been in every hunt we've had. This wants looking 
into, Pinto." 

As he finished speaking, there was a little buzz from 
the corner of the room, and Pinto looked up, startled. 
The colonel looked up too, and a slow smile dawned on 
his face. 

“A visitor," he said softly. ‘^Not our old friend. Jack 
o' Judgment, surely!" 

'‘What is it?" asked Pinto. 

“A little alami I’ve had fixed under one of the treads 
of the stairs,” said the other. “I don’t like to be taken 
unawares." 

“Perhaps it is Crewe,” suggested the other. 

“Crewe went home an hour ago,” said the colonel. 
“No, this is a genuine visitor.” 

They waited for some time and then there was a knock 
at the outer door. 

“Open it, Pinto.” As the other did not instantly move 
he commanded: “Open it, do you hear! What are you 
afraid ot?" 

“I'm not afraid of anything," retorted the Portuguese 
and flung out of the room. ’ 

Yet he hesitated again before he turned the handle of 


THE VOICE IN THE ROOM 


205 


the outer door. He flung it open and stepped back. He 
would have gone farther but the wall was at his back 
and he could only stand with open mouth, staring at the 
visitor. It was Maisie White. 

She returned his gaze steadily. 

want to see Colonel Boundary,’^ she said. 

‘'Certainly, certainly,’' said Pinto huskily. 

He shut the door and ushered her into the colonel’s 
presence. Boundary’s eyes narrowed as he saw the girl. 
He suspected a trap and looked past her as though 
expecting to see an escort behind her. 

“This is an unexpected honor, Miss White,” he said 
suavely, and he looked meaningly at the clock on the 
mantelpiece. “ We do not usually receive visitors so 
late, and especially charming lady visitors.” 

She was carrying a thick package, and this she laid on 
the table. 

“I’m sorry it is so late,” she said calmly, “but I have 
been all the evening checking my father’s accounts. 
This is yours.” 

She handed the package to the colonel. 

“That parcel contains bank notes to the value of 
twenty-seven thousand, three hundred pounds,” said 
the girl quietly. “It represents what remains of the 
money which my father drew from your gang.” 

“Tainted money, eh?” said the colonel humorously. 
“I think you’re very foolish, Miss White. Your father 
earned this money by legitimate business enterprises.” 

“I know all about them,” she said. “I won’t ask you 
to count the notes, because it is only a question of getting 
the money off my own conscience, and the amount really 
doesn’t matter.” 


206 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


you came here alone to make this act of repara- 
tion?^’ asked the colonel. 

^‘1 came here to make this act of reparation,” she 
replied steadily. 

^^Not alone, eh? Surrounded entirely by police. Mr. 
Stafford King is in the offing, waiting outside in a taxi, 
or probably waiting on the mat,” said the colonel in the 
same tone. “Well, well, you’re quite safe with us. Miss 
White.” 

He took up the package and tore off the wrapping, 
revealing two wads of bank notes, and ran his finger 
along the edges. 

“And how are you going to live?” he asked. 

“By working,” said the girl. “That’s a strange way 
of earning a living, don’t you think, colonel?” 

“You’ll never work harder than I have worked,” said 
Colonel Dan Boundary good-humoredly. And, looking 
down at the money, he added: “So that’s Solly White’s 
share, is it? And I suppose it doesn’t include the house 
he bought, or the car? ” 

“I’ve sold everything,” said the girl quietly. “Every 
piece of property he owned has been realized, and that 
is the proceeds,” 

With a little nod she was withdrawing, but Pinto 
barred her way. 

“One moment. Miss White,” he said, and there was 
a dangerous glint in his eyes. “ If you chose to come here 
alone in the middle of the night — ” 

The colonel stepped between them and swept the 
Portuguese backward. Without a word he opened the 
door. 

“Goodnight, Miss White,” he said. “ My kind regards 


THE VOICE IN THE ROOM 


207 


to Mr. Stafford King, who, I suppose, is somewhere on 
! the premises, and to all the bright lads of the criminal 
: intelligence department who are at this moment watching 
the house. 

She smiled, but did not take his proffered hand. 

‘‘Good-by,^^ she said. 

The colonel accompanied her to the outer door and 
switched on all the stair lights, as he could from the 
master switch near the entrance to his flat, and waited 
until the echo of her footsteps had passed away before 
he came back to the man. 

'‘You're a clever fellow, you are, Pinto," he said 
quietly; "you have one of the brightest minds in the 
gang." 

"If she comes here alone " began Pinto. 

Alone! snarled the colonel. "I hinted a dozen times, 
if I hinted once, that she'd come with a young army of 
police. The first shout she made would have been the 
signal for your arrest and mine. Haven't you had your 
lesson tonight? How long do you think it would take 
Stafford King to trump up a charge against you and put 
: you where the dogs wouldn't bite you, eh?" 

He walked to the window and watched the girl. 

; There was a taxicab waiting at the entrance, and, as he 
Shad suspected, a man was standing by the door and 
followed the girl into the cab before it drove away. 

"She timed her visit. I suppose she gave herself five 
I minutes. If she'd been here any longer they would have 
i been up for her, make no mistake about that, Pinto." 

The colonel drew down the blinds with a crash and 
I began pacing the room. He stopped at the farther end 
ind looked at the wall. 


208 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


you know, IVe often wondered why Jack o^ 
Judgment damaged that wall?’’ he said. ‘‘He got me 
guessing and I’ve been guessing ever since.” 

“You thought it was a foolish stunt?” said Pinto, 
glad to keep his master off the subject of his Huddersfield 
blunder. 

The colonel shook his head. 

“I shouldn’t think it was that,” he said. “It was not 
like Jack o’ Judgment to do foolish things. He has an 
object in everything he does.” 

“Perhaps it was to get you out of the room for the 
morning and make a search of your papers,” suggested 
Pinto. Again the colonel shook his head. 

“He knows me better than that. He knew very well 
that I would shift every document from the room, and 
that there was nothing for his bloodhounds to discover.” 
He thought a moment, pulling at his long, yellow mus- 
tache. “May be,” he said to himself, “may be ” 

“Maybe what?” asked Pinto. 

“The workmen may have been up to some kind o: 
deviltry. They might have been policemen, for all I 
know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, that’s 
long ago, and if he’s made a discovery, why, I think we 
should have heard about it. Now, Pinto” — his tone 
changed — “I’m not going to talk to you any more 
about Crotin. You’ve made a mess of it, and I ought 
never to have sent you. We have two matters to settle. 
Crewe wants to quit, and I think you’re getting ready to 
run away.” 

“Me?” said Pinto with virtuous indignation. “Do 
you imagine I should leave you, colonel, if you wer^ in 
for a bad time? ” 


THE VOICE IN THE ROOM 


209 


''Do I imagine it?^^ The colonel laughed. "Don’t be 
a fool. Sit down. When did you see Lollie Marsh last? ” 

Pinto considered. 

"I haven’t seen her for weeks?” 

"Neither have I,” said the colonel. "Of course she 
has an excuse for staying away. She never comes unless 
she’s sent for. If we’ve got a 'prospect’ we want to lead 
down the easy path, why, there’s nobody in London who 
can do it like Lollie. And I understand you had some 
disagreement with the young lady over Maisie White?” 

"She interfered ” began Pinto. 

"And probably saved your life,” remarked the colonel 
meaningly. "No, you have no kick against Lollie for 
that.” 

He pulled open the drawer of his desk, took out a card 
and wrote rapidly. 

"I’ll put Snakit on her trail,” he said. 

"Snakit!” said the other contemptuously. 

"He’s all right for this kind of work, ” said the colonel. 
"Snakit can trail her. He does nothing for his keep — 
and Lollie doesn’t know him, does she?” 

"I don’t think so,” said Pinto absently. "If you 
believe that Lollie is double-crossing you why don’t 
you ” 

"I’ll write to you when I want any suggestions as to 
how to run my business,” said the colonel unpleasantly. 
"Where does Lollie live?” 

"Tavistock Avenue,” said Pinto. "I wish you’d be a 
little more decent to me, colonel. I’m trying to do the 
right thing by you. ” 

"And you’ll soon get tired of trying,” said the colonel. 
"Don’t worry, Pinto. I know just how much I can 


210 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


depend upon you and just what your loyalty is worth. 
You’ll sell me at the first opportunity, and you’ll be 
dead about the same day. I only hope for your sake 
that the opportunity never arises. That’s that, ” he said 
as he finished the card and put it on one side. ‘‘Now 
what is the next thing? ” He looked up at the ceiling for 
inspiration. “Crewe,” he said; “Crewe is getting out 
of hand, too. I put him on a job to trace Snow Gregory’s 
past. I haven’t seen or heard of him for two days, either. ” 

Somebody laughed. It was a queer little far-away 
laugh, but Pinto recognized it, and his hair almost stood 
on end. He looked across at the colonel with ashen face 
and then swung round apprehensively toward the door. 

“Did you hear that?” he whispered. 

“I heard it — thank the Lord!” said the colonel, and 
fetched a long sigh. 

Pinto gazed at him in amazement. 

“Why,” he said in a low voice, “that was Jack o’ 
Judgment!” 

“I know,” said the colonel, nodding, “but I still thank 
the Lord!” 

He got up slowly ana walked round the room, opened 
the door that led to his bedroom and put on the light. 
The room was empty and the only cupboard which might 
have concealed an intruder was wide open. He came 
back, walked into the entrance hall and opened the door 
softly. The landing was empty, too. He returned after 
fastening the door and slipping the bolts — bolts which 
he had fixed during the previous week. 

“You wonder why I held a thanksgiving service?” 
said the colonel slowly. “Well, I’ve heard that laugh 
before, and I thought my brain was going — that’s all. 


THE VOICE IN THE ROOM 


211 


I’d rather it were Jack o’ Judgment in the flesh than 
Jack o’ Judgment wandering loose around my nut. ” 

You heard it before? ” said Pinto. Here? ” 

^‘Here in this room,” said the colonel. ^‘I thought I 
was going daft. You’re the flrst person who has heard it 
beside myself.” He looked at Pinto. fierce prospect 
isn’t it?” he said gloomily. Let’s talk about the 
weather I” 


CHAPTER XXX 


DIAMONDS FOR THE BANK 

There was no hope for Phillopolis from the first. The 
case against him was so clear and so damning that the 
magistrate before whom the preliminary inquiry was 
heard had no hesitation in committing him to trial at the 
Old Bailey on a charge of receiving stolen goods. Every 
article which had been stolen from the diamond smith’s 
company had been recovered in his flat, ihe police 
experts gave evidence to the effect that he had been a 
suspected man for years, and that his method of earning a 
living had on several occasions been the subject of police 
inquiry. He was known to be, so the evidence ran, the 
associate of criminal characters. 

The woman who passed as his wife had nothing good 
to say of him. It was not she who had admitted the 
police. Indeed, they found her in an upper room, locked 
in. Phillopolis was something of a tyrant, and on the 
day of his arrest he had had a quarrel with the woman, 
who had threatened to expose him to the police for some 
other breach of the law. He had beaten her and locked 
her into an upper bedroom, and this act of tyranny had 
proved his downfall, if it were true, as he swore so 
vehemently, that the articles which were found in his 
room had been planted there. 

The colonel was not present, nor were any other mem- 
bers of the gangj save Selby, who had been summoned to ‘ 
212 


DIAMONDS FOR THE BANK 213 

the colonel’s presence and had arrived in the early 
morning. 

‘He hasn’t a ghost of a chance,” reported Selby, who 
had a lifelong acquaintance with criminals of the meaner 
sort, and had spent no small amount of his time in police 
courts, securing evidence as to the virtue of his proteges. 
“If he doesn’t get ten years I’ll be surprised.” 

“What does Phillopolis say?” 

“He swears that the goods were not in his flat when 
he went out that night,” he said; “but if they were 
planted the work was done thoroughly. The detectives 
found jewel cases under cushions, hidden in cupboards, 
on the tops of shelves, and one of the best bits of swag — 
a wonderful diamond necklace — was discovered in his 
boot, at the bottom of his trunk. ” 

The conversation took place in Green Park, which was 
a favorite haunt of the colonel’s. He loved to sit on a 
chair by the side of the lake, watching the children sailing 
their boats and the ducks mothering their broods. He 
was silent. His eyes were bent upon the efforts of a small 
boy to bring a little waterlogged boat to a level keel, 
and apparently he had no other interest. 

“Have a cigar, Selby,” he said at last. “What is the 
news in your part of the world?” 

Selby was carefully biting off the end of his gift. 

“Nothing much,” he said. “We got some letters the 
other day from Mrs. Crombie-Brail. Her son has got into 
trouble at the Cape. Lew Litchfield got them. He was 
doing a job in Manchester.” 

Lew Litchfield was a bright young burglar of whom the 
colonel had heard, and he knew the kind of “job” on 
which Lew was engaged. 


214 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


*'You bought 'em?'' he asked. 

gave him a tenner for them," said Selby. ''I don't 
think they're much use. " 

The colonel shook his head. 

That's not the kind of letter that brings in money, " 
he said. ^^You can't bleed a mother because her son got 
into trouble :at least, not for more than a hundred.' ' 

‘^Letters have been scarce lately," said his agent dis- 
consolately ; “I think people have either given up keeping 
or writing them. " 

''Maybe," said the colonel. "Anyway, I didn't bring 
you down to talk about letters. I've work for you. " 

Selby looked uneasy, and that in itself was a discourag- 
ing sign. Usually the little crook from the north hailed 
any job of any kind with enthusiasm. 

It was an unmistakable proof to the colonel that he 
was losing grip, that the magic of his name and all that he 
implied in the way of protection from punishment was 
less than it had been 

"You don't seem very pleased, " he said. 

Selby forced a smile. 

Well, colonel," he said, "I've a feeling they're after 
us, and I don't want to take any risks." 

"You'll take this one," said the colonel. "There's 
somebody to be put away. " 

The man licked his lips. 

“Well, I'm not in it,” he said. “I had enough with 
that Hanson business." 

"By 'put away' I don't mean murdered or ill-treated 
in any sense," said the colonel, "and, besides, it is one of 
our own people." 

But even this assurance did not satisfy the man , 


DIAMONDS FOR THE BANK 


215 


donT like it/^ he said. ‘‘They tell me that this 
Jack o' Judgment " 

Just forget Jack o' Judgment for a minute and think 
of yourself," retorted the colonel. “You've made your 
pile, and you find that England's getting a bit too hot for 
you, don't you?" 

“I do indeed," said the man fervently. “You know, 
colonel, I was thinking that a trip to America wouldn't 
be a bad idea. " 

“There are plenty of places to go to without going to 
America," said the colonel. “I tell you that I mean 
LoUie no harm." 

“Lollie?" Selby was surprised and showed it. “She 
hasn't " 

“ I don't know what she's done yet, but I think it is 
time she went away, " said the colonel; “and so far as I 
can judge, it is time you went, too, Selby. I don't know 
whether Lollie is betraying us, and maybe I'm doing her 
an injustice," he went on,“ but if I put up to her a sug- 
gestion that she should leave the country maybe she'd 
turn me down. You know how suspicious these women 
are. The only idea I can think of is to scare her and 
make her run quick and sudden, and I want you to 
provide the means." 

Selby was waiting. 

“ I bought a motor boat, a swift one. I have it ready 
at Twickenham, and you can get all your goods on board 
and go to " 

“Where?" 

“Anywhere you like," said the colonel; “Holland, 
Denmark — one place is as good as another, and it’ll be a 
good sea-gping boat. You see, my idea is this: If I think 


216 


JACK JUDGMENT 


Lollie is negotiating to put us away I can give her a 
fright which will make her jump at the means of getting 
out of England by the quickest and shortest route. You 
can go with her and keep her under your eye until the 
trouble blows over. 

He saw a look in the man^s face and correctly inter- 
preted it. 

^^H’m not worried about you double-crossing me,” he 
said, “even if you are abroad. IVe enough evidence 
against you to bring you back under an extradition 
warrant.^’ He laughed as Selby’s face fell. “You see, 
Selby, there’s nothing in it that you can take exception 
to. I don’t even know that Lollie will refuse to go in 
the ordinary way, but I must make preparations. ” 

It is a reasonable suggestion,” said Selby after con- 
sidering the matter for a few minutes. “I’ll do it, 
colonel. ” 

“You’d better bring a couple of men to London who 
can handle Lollie if she gives any trouble. No, no, ” said 
the colonel, raising his hand in dignified protest, “there’s 
going to be nothing rough. How can there be? You’ll 
be in charge of it all, and it is up to you as to how Lollie 
is treated.” 

It did not occur to Selby until an hour later to ask the 
colonel how he knew that his hobby was motor boating, 
but by that time the colonel had gone. 

It was true, as Boundary said, that the gang was 
badly scared. It was equally true that they needed only 
one jar before it became a case of every man for himself. 
Already even the minor members were making their 
preparations to break away. The red light was burning 
clear before all eyes. But none knew how readily the 


DIAMONDS FOR THE BANK 


217 


colonel had recognized the signs, and how, in spite of his 
apparent philosophy and his contempt of danger, he, 
more than any of the others, was preparing for the 
inevitable crash. 

Jack o^ Judgment, he told himself, was playing his 
game better than he could play it himself. The arrest of 
Phillopolis had removed one of the men who might have 
been an inconvenient witness against him. White was 
gone, Raoul was gone. He had planned the disappearance 
of Selby, a most dangerous man, and Lollie Marsh, an 
even more dangerous woman, and there remained only 
Pinto and Crewe. 

When he had taken leave of his agent the colonel 
walked to Westminster and boarded a car which carried 
him along the Embankment to Blackfriars. He might 
have been followed, and probably was, but this possi- 
bility did not worry him. He walked across Ludgate 
Circus, up St. Bride Street to Hatton Garden, and 
turned into the office of Myglebergs. 

Mr. Mygleberg, a very suave and polite gentleman, 
received him and ushered him into a private room. This 
shrewd Dutchman had no illusions as to the coloneFs 
probity, but he had no doubt either that the big man 
could pay handsomely for everything he bought. 

glad you’ve come, colonel,” he said. have 
been expecting you for a couple of days. We have just 
had a wonderful parcel of stones from Amsterdam, and 
I think some of them would suit you.” 

He disappeared and came back with a tray covered 
with the most beautiful diamonds that had ever left the 
cutter’s hands. The colonel went over them slowly, 
examining them and putting a select number aside. 


218 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


“I’ll take those,” he said; and Mr. Mygleberg 
laughed. 

“They’re the best, ” he conceded. “ Trust you to know 
a good thing when you see it. Colonel!” 

“ What have I ti pay for these? ” 

Mygleberg made a rapid calculation and put the figures 
before Colonel Boundary. 

“It is a big price,” said the colonel, “but I don’t think 
you have overcharged. Besides, I could always sell them 
again for as much as that. ” 

Mr. Mygleberg nodded. 

“I think you are wise to put your money into stones, 
colonel, he said; “they always go up and never go 
down in value. You can lose other things. They’re easy, 
and they’re always convertible. I always tell my partner 
that if I ever become a millionaire I shall invest every 
penny in stones. ” 

The colonel paid for the gems from a thick wad of 
notes he took from his hip pocket. They were, in point of 
fact, the idhu^ical notes which Maisie White had handed 
to him the night previous. He waited while the jewels 
were made up into a little oblong package, heavily sealed 
and inscribed with the colonel’s name and address, and 
then, shaking hands with Mygleberg and fixing a further 
appointment, he went out into Hatton Garden, whistling 
a little song and apparently the picture of contentment 

He was getting ready for fiight, too. This, the first of 
the many packages which he intended depositing in the 
private safe of his bank, would go with the ever-increasing 
pile of American gold bonds of high denomination which 
filled that steel repository. For months the colonel had 
been converting his property into paper dollars. They 


DIAMONDS FOR THE BANK 


219 


were more easily negotiated and less traceable than 
English bank notes, and they were more get-at-able. 
A big balance in the books of the bank might be credit- 
! able but took time to convert into cash. Now nobody 
i knew but himself the amount standing to his credit. 

I He was not at the mercy of prying bank clerks or a 
! manager who might be reached by the police. At a 
I minute’s notice, and without anybody’s being the wiser, 

I he could demand the contents of his safe-deposit box 
j and walk from the bank premises without a soul being 
I aware that he was carrying the bulk of his fortune away, 
i He took a cab and drove now to the bank premises, 
j Ferguson, the manager, received him. 

I ‘‘ Good morning, colonel, ” he said. I was just writing 
I you a note. You know your account is getting very low. ” 

I Is that so? ” said the colonel in surprise. 

thought you wouldn’t realize the fact,” said 
^ Ferguson, ‘‘ but you’ve been drawing very heavily of late.” 

“I’ll put it right,” said the colonel. “It is not over- 
drawn?” he asked jocularly, and Ferguson smiled. 

“You’ve eighty thousand pounds in account B, ” he 
3 said. “I suppose you don’t want to touch that?” 

“Unless you’re anxious that I should get penal servi- 
f tude for fradulently converting the company’s funds,” 
S said the colonel in the same strain. “No, I’ll fix my 
: account some time today. In the meantime” — he 
I produced a package from his hip pocket — “I want this 
I to go into my safe-deposit box.” 

“Certainly,” said Ferguson, and struck a bell. A clerk 
; answered the call. “Take Colonel Boundary to the 
j vaults. He wants to deposit something in his box,” 
I he said. “Or would you like me to do it, colonel?” 


220 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


1 11 do it myself, said the colonel. 

He followed the clerk down the spiral staircase to 
the well-lit vault, and with the key which the man handed 
him opened box twenty. It was divided into two com- 
partments, that on the left consisting of a deep drawer 
which he pulled out. It was half filled with American 
paper currency, as he knew — currency neatly parceled 
and carefully packed by his own hands. 

'‘1 often wonder. Colonel Boundary,'' said the inter- 
ested clerk, ^‘why you don't use the bank safe. When a 
customer has his own, you know, we are not responsible 
for any of his losses." 

I know that," said the colonel genially. Still one 
must take a risk. " ^ 


He placed the package on the top of the money, pushed 
back the drawer, locked the safe and handed the key to 
the young man. 

“I think the bank takes enough risks without asking 
them to accept any more,” he said, “and, besides, I like 
to take a little risk myself sometimes. " ’ 

So I’ve heard, ” said the clerk innocently, and the 
colonel shot a questioning look at the young man. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE VOICE AGAIN 

He left the bank with the sense of having done his 
duty by himself. He had not planned the route by 
which he was leaving the country, or the hour. Much 
was to happen before he shook the dust of England from 
his feet, and as he had arranged matters he would have 
plenty of time to think things over before his departure. 

A great deal happened in the next few days to make 
him believe that the necessity for getting away was not 
very urgent. He met Stafford King in the park one 
morning, and Stafford had been unusually communicative 
and friendly. Then the whispering voices in the flat had 
temporarily ceased and Jack o’ Judgment had given 
him no sign of his existence. It was five days after he 
had made his deposit in the bank that the first shock 
came to him. He found Snakit waiting on returning 
from a matinee, and the little detective was so important 
and mysterious that the colonel knew something had 
been discovered. 

^‘Well,” he asked, closing the door, “what have you 

found?”’ _ . ^ V n 

“She is in communication with the police, said 

Snakit; “that’s what I’ve found.” 

^‘Lollie?” . . . . . 

“Miss Marsh is the lady. In communication with the 

police,” said the other impressively. 

“Now just tell me what you mean,” said the colonel. 

221 


222 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


you mean she^s on speaking terms with the police- 
man on point duty at Piccadilly Circus?^’ 

I mean, sir,” said Snakit with dignity, ^Hhat she’s 
in the habit of meeting Mr. Stafford King, who is a well- 
known man at Scotland Yard.” 

^^He is well known here, too,” interrupted the colonel; 

where does she meet him?” 

''In all sorts of queer places •— that’s the suspicious 
part of it,” said Snakit, who had joyously entered thor- 
oughly into the work which had been given to him, 
without realizing its unlawful character. 

^ He had accepted the colonel’s story that he was the 
victim of police persecution without question, and as 
this was the first news of any importance he had been 
able to bring to his employer, he was naturally inclined 
to make the most of it. 

"He has met her twice at eleven o’clock at night, at 
the bottom of St. James’ Street, and walked up with her, 
very deeply engaged in conversation,” said Snakit, con- 
sulting his note book. ^^He met her once at the foot of 
the steps leading down from Waterloo Place, and they 
were together for an hour. This morning,” he went on 
speaking slowly, and evidently this was his titbit, ''this 
morning Mr. Stafford King went to the Cunard office in 
Cockspur Street and booked cabin seventeen on the 
shelter deck of the Lapland for New York.” 

"In what name?” 

"In the name of Miss Isabel Trenton.” 

The colonel nodded. It was a name that Lollie had 
used before and the story rang true. 

When does the Lapland sail?” he asked, and again 
the detective consulted his book. 


THE VOICE AGAIN 


223 


“Next Saturday,” he said, “from Liverpool.” 

“Very good,” said the colonel. “Thank you, Snakif 
youve done very well. See if you can pick them up 
tomght, or” — he thought a moment — “no, don’t 
shadow her tonight. I’ll have a talk with her.” 

The news disturbed him. Lollie was getting ready to 
! run away — that was unimportant. But she was running 
I away with the assistance of the police, who had booked 
1 her passage. That meant that they had got as much out 
of her as she had to tell, and were helping her out of the 
j country before the blow fell. That was not only impor- 
: tant, but it was grave. Either the police were going to 
i strike at once or ^ 

An idea struck him and he telephoned to Pinto. 

’ Another call got him into touch with Crewe, and these 
■ three were in consultation when Selby came that after- 
; noon. 

• He arrived at an unpropitious time, for the colonel 
? was in a cold fury, and the object of his wrath was Crewe, 
who sat with folded arms and tense face, looking down 
at the table. 

‘^That gentleman business is played out, Crewe, 

' stormed the colonel, “and I’m just about tired of hearing 
j what you won’t do and what you will do ! If Lollie’s given 
I us away she has got to go through it.” 

“What use will it be, supposing she has?” said the 
(other doggedly. “I don’t for a moment believe she has 
I lone anything of the sort. But suppose she has 
f ;iven you away, what are you going to do? Add to the 
I ndictment? She’s sick of the game and wants to get 
; iway somewhere where she can live a decent life.” 

I “Oh, you’ve been discussing it with her, have you?” 


224 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


said the colonel with dangerous calm. ''And maybe 
you also are sick of the game and want to get away and 
live a decent life? I remember hearing you say something 
of that sort a few weeks ago.” 

"We’re all sick of it,” said Crewe. "Look at Pinto. 
Do you think he’s pleased? ” 

Pinto started. 

"Why do you bring me into it?” he complained. 
"I’m standing by the colonel to the last. And I agree 
with him that we ought to know what Lollie told the 
police.” 

"She’s told them nothing,” said Crewe; "she isn’t 
that kind of girl. Besides, what does she know? ” 

"She knows a lot,” said the colonel. "I’ll put a 
supposition to you. Suppose she’s Jack o’ Judgment.” 

Crewe looked at him in astonishment. 

"That’s an absurd suggestion,” he said. "How could 
she be?” 

"I’ll tell you how she could be,” said the colonel. 
"She has never been with us when Jack made his appear- 
ance. You’ll grant that?” 

Crewe thought for a moment. 

"There you’re wrong,” he said; "she was with us the 
night Jack first came.” 

The colonel was taken aback. A theory which he had; 
formed was destroyed by that recollection. 

"So she was. That’s right, she was there ! I remember 
he insulted her. But I’m certain she’s seen him since: 
I am certain she’s been working hand in glove with hiir> 
since. Who was the Jack who went to Yorkshire?” 

It was Crewe’s turn to be nonplused. 

"Jack o’ Judgment must be working with a pal,’ 


THE VOICE AGAIN 


225 


the colonel went on triumphantly, “and I suggest that 
that pal is Lollie Marsh.’ ^ 

^‘That’s a lie!” 

The colonel looked up quickly. 

''Who said that?” he demanded harshly. 

Crewe shook his head. 

"It was not me,” ho said. 

"Was it you, Selby?” 

"Me?” said the astonished Selby. "No. I thought 
it was you who said it. It came from your end of the 
table, colonel.” 

The colonel got up. 

"There’s something wrong here,” he said. 

"IVe got it!” It was Pinto who spoke. "Did you 
notice anything peculiar about the voice, colonel?” he 
asked eagerly. "I did, the first time I heard it, and IVe 
been wondering how I’d heard it before, and just now it 
has struck me. It was a gramophone voice!” 

"A gramophone voice?” 

"It sounded like a voice on a speaking machine.” 

The colonel nodded slowly. 

"Now you come to mention it, I think you’re right,” 
he said. "It sounded familiar to me. Of course it was a 
gramophone voice.” 

They made a careful search of the apartment, taking 
down every book from the big shelf in one of the alcoves, 
and turning the leaves to discover the hidden machine. 
With this idea to guide them the search was more com- 
plete than it had been before. Every drawer in the desk 
was taken out, every scrap of furniture wa'a minutely 
! examined, even the massive legs of the colonel’s writing 
table were tapped. 


226 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Crewe took no part in the search, but watched it with 
a slight smile of amusement, and the colonel, turning, 
detected this. 

^‘What the devil are you grinning about?’' he said. 
“Why aren’t you helping, Crewe? You’ve got an interest 
in this business.” 

“Not such an interest that I’m going to fool around 
looking for a gramophone voice that goes off at appro- 
priate intervals,” said Crewe. “Doesn’t it strike you 
that it would have to be a pretty smart gramophone to 
chip in at the right moment? ” 

The colonel pondered this a minute and then went 
back to his place at the table, mopping his forehead. 

“Pinto’s right,” he said. “The fellow has smuggled 
some fool machine into the flat, and we shall discover it 
sooner or later. I don’t know how he controls it, or who 
controls it” — he looked suspiciously at Crewe — “or 
who controls it,” he repeated. 

“You said that before,” said Crewe coolly. 

The colonel had something on his lips to say, but 
swallowed it. 

“We’ll meet here tonight at eleven. I told Lollie to 
come. Now, Crewe,” he said in a more gentle tone, 
“you’re in this up to the neck, and you’ve got to go 
through with it. After all, your life and liberty are at 
stake as much as ours. If Lollie’s played us false we’ve i 
got to be ” 

“Lollie has not played you false, colonel,” said Crewe. 
His face was very pale, the colonel noticed. “I like that 
girl, and ” | 

“ So that’s it? ” said the colonel. “ A little love romance 
introduced into our sordid commercial lives! Maybe s 


the voice again 


227 


ttr™ <« SMord Kl., 

' Crewe did not immediately reply 

^ Do you?” asked the colonel. 

to break with^ thTgang ^buTth^t^t T country, 
any of us away is f hf T *ii > . 
she^ siek of it, thaVs all. D^^u 

, said?h:^ruTpS^^^^ 

rr r f ’Sir 

iCrter- You will be present,’ 

present, you may be sure,” said Crewe 

z:xr * “ “■ «“>». '« s 


CHAPTER XXXII 


LOLLIE GOES AWAY 

It seemed to Swell Crewe that the scene was curiously 
reminiscent of a trial in which he had once participated. 
The colonel, at the end of the long table, sat aloof and 
apparently ijoncommittal, a veritable judge and a 
merciless judge at that. Pinto sat at his right, Selby on 
the left, and Crewe himself sat halfway between the girl 
at the further end of the table, and Pinto. 

Lollie Marsh had no doubt as to why she had been 
summoned. Her pretty face was drawn, the hands which 
were clasped on the table before her were restless, but 
what Crewe noticed more particularly was a certain 
untidiness both in h«r costume and in her usually well- 
coiffured hair. As though wearying of the part she had 
been playing, she was already discarding her make-up. 

“I hate to bring you here, Lollie, and ask you these 
questions, the colonel was saying, “but we are all in 
some danger and we want to know just where we stand 
with you.’^ 

She made no reply. 

“The charge against you is that youVe been in com- 
munication with the police. Is that true? ” 

“If you mean that I’ve been in communication with 
Mr. Stafford King, that’s true,” she said. “You told 

me to get after him. Haven’t I been for weeks ” 

“Thatn a pretty good excuse,” interrupted the 
228 


LOLLIE GOES AWAY 


229 


i colonel, ‘'but it won’t work, Lollie. You don’t get after 
a nian like Stafford King and meet him secretly in 
;; St. James’ Street. And you don’t get after him by seeing 
I him for half an hour at a time, and I haven’t heard of 
: you ever getting after a fellow to the extent of his paying 
> for your passage to America.” 

She started. 

“You know the way it is done. You did it before, 

) Lollie,” the colonel went on. “Now, you’ve got to be a 
( good girl and tell us how far you’ve gone.” 

She did not reply. 

Come, Lollie, ’ said Pinto in his most engaging voice j 
? “we don’t mean you any harm, but we’ve got to look 
t after ourselves. What have you told Stafford King?” 

“I’ve told him nothing,” said the girl; “at least, 

( nothing about you people. And what do you think I 
/ could tell him that he doesn’t already know?” she asked 
) scornfully. “Why, Pinto, he’s got you sized right down 
to the ground! He’s got you in half sizes! Tell him 
indeed! Why, he told me things about you that I had 
f never heard before in my life.” 

( Pinto went a dusky red. 

‘ “That won’t go,” he said roughly; “he didn’t meet 
J' you to give you information.” 

‘ “Didn’t he, though?” said the girl, nodding. “He 
'i told me all about the Orpheum, and the man who horse- 
I whipped you, and ” 

t With an oath the other started to his feet, touched in 
i the tenderest spot. 

} “Dry up, Pinto,” said the colonel; “we all know that 
story’s true. But why did he tell you this, Lollie?”, 

She hesitated. 


230 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


^‘T’ll tell you the truth/^ she said. “I’m sick of this 
life, colonel. I want to get away out of it all, and — and 
— he’s going to help me.” 

“A social reformer, eh?” said the colonel. “I didn’t 
know the police went in for that sort of stunt. And 
when did he take this sudden liking for you, Lollie?” 

“It wasn’t a sudden liking at all,” she said, “but I 
think it was because — well, because I stopped Pinto in 
the nursing home — and Miss White told him. I think 
that’s all.” 

The colonel looked down on his pad. 

“There’s something in that,” he said; “it sounds 
feasible. Didn’t he question you?” raising his eyes. 

“About you?” she said. 

“About us!” corrected the colonel. 

“He asked me nothing about you, nothing about 
your habits or your methods or about any of our funny 
business. I’ll swear it,” she said. 

“You’re not going to believe that, are you, colonel?” 
demanded Pinto. “You can see that she is lying and 
that she’s double-crossing you?” 

“She’s neither lying nor double-crossing us.” It was 
Crewe who spoke. “I don’t know what you think about 
it, colonel, but I am convinced that Lollie is speaking the 
truth.” 

“You!” Pinto laughed loudly. “I think you’re in a 
state of mind when you’d believe anything Lollie said. 
And anyway you’re probably in league with her.” 

“You’re a liar,” said Crewe, so quietly that no one 
suspected the surprising thing that would follow, for of 
a sudden his fist shot out and caught Pinto under the 
jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. 


LOLLIE GOES AWAY 


231 


“ k” '“l. W- bond out- 

.on™1h.S°'^- “‘'I l»v. 

Pinto picked himself up, his face livid. 

PreJp breathlessly; but Swell 

Crewe had walked to the girl and had laid his hand on 
her shoulder. 

“LoUie,’’ he said, “I’m believing you, and I think the 
CO onel IS, too. If you’re going out of the country, why 
111 say good luck to you. You’ve made a very wise 
decision, and one which we shall aU make — some of us 
perhaps too late.'^ 

“Wait a moment,’’ said the colonel. He exchanged a 
glance with Selby, and the man slipped quietly from the 
room. ''Before we do any of that fare-thee-well stuff 
IVe got a few words to say to you, Lollie. I’m with 
Crewe. I think it is time you went out of the country, 
J3ut you^re going out my way.” 

"What do you mean?” she asked. 

Her hand clutched Swell Crewe’s sleeve. 

"You're going out my way,” said the colonel, "and 
I swear no harm will come to you. You’re leaving 
tonight.” 


"But how?” she asked, affrighted. 

Selby will tell you. You’ll meet him downstairs. 
Now be a sensible girl and do as I tell you. Selby will 
go with you and see you safe. We made all preparations 
for your departure tonight.” 

"What’s this, colonel?” asked Crewe. 

"You’re out of it,” said the colonel savagely; "I’m 
running this show myself. If you want to join Lollie 


232 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


later, why, you can. For the present she^s going just 
where I want her to go and in the way I have planned. 

He held out his hand to the girl and she took it. 

Good-by and good luck, Lollie!’’ he said. 

“But can’t I go back to my rooms?” she asked. 

He shook his head. 

“Do as I tell you,” he said shortly. 

She stood at the door, and for a moment her eyes met 
Crewe’s and he moved toward her. 

“Wait.” The colonel gripped his arm. “Good-by, 
Lollie,” and the door shut on the girl. 

“Let me go,” said Crewe between his teeth. “If she 
trusts you I don’t. This is some trick of that dirty 
half-breed!” 

With a snarl of rage Pinto whipped his ever-ready 
knife from his hip pocket and flung it. It was the colonel 
who drew Crewe aside, or that moment would have been 
his last. The knife whizzed past and was buried almost 
to the hilt in the wall. The colonel broke the tense 
silence which followed. 

“ Pinto,”' Le said, 'In his silkiest voice, “if you ever 
want to know what it feels like to be a dead man just 
repeat that performance, will you?” Then his rage 
burst forth. ‘‘I’ll shoot either of you if you play the fool 
in front of me again. You dirty little pickpockets that 
I’ve taken from the gutter! You miserable little sneak 
thieves!” 

He let loose a flood of abuse that made even Crewe 
wince. 

“Now sit down, both of you,” he finished up, out of 
breath. 

He went to the window and looked out. The car 


LOLLIE GOES AWAY 233 

which he had hired for the occasion was still standing 
chauffeur distinguished Selby talking to the 

“Listen you,” he said, “and especially you, Crewe 
You re too trusting with these females. Maybe Lollie’s 
speaking the truth, but it is just as likely she’s lying. 
I m not going to take your corroboration, you know, 
Crewe, he said. ‘We’ve got to depend on her word, 
inere s nobody else can speak for her, is there? 

Before Crewe could speak the colonel was answered. 
Jack o’ Judgment! Poor old Jack o’ Judgment! 
He 11 speak for Lollie!^^ 

The colonel looked up with a curse. There was nobody 

in the room, but the voice had been louder than ever he 
had heard it before. It seemed as though it emanated 
from a disembodied spirit that was floating through the 
air. There was a knock at the outer door. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


WHERE THE VOICE LIVED 

*^Open it,” said the colonel in a low voice; ''open it, 
Crewe. ” He pulled open the drawer and took out some- 
thin'g. "And if it is Jack o’ Judgment ” 

Crewe opened the door, his heart beating at a furious 
rate, but it was Selby who came into the room and faced 
the half leveled gun of the colonel. 

" What do you want? ” asked Boundary quickly. " You 
fool, I told you not to lose sight of her!” 

"But when is she coming down?” asked Selby. 'HVe 
been waiting there all this time, and there’s a policeman 
at the corner of the street. I wondered whether you had 
seen him, too.” 

"Not come down?” said the colonel. "She left here 
five minutes ago!” 

Selby shook his head. 

"She hasn’t come down,” he said, "and I’ve certainly 
not passed her on the stairs. Is there any other way out? ” 

"No way that she could use, ” said the colonel, shaking 
his head. "I’ve had new locks put on all the doors.” 

He thought a moment. 'Hf she hasn’t come down she 
went up.” 

They went up the stairs together and searched, first 
Pinto’s flat, and then the storerooms and empty apart- 
ments on the floor higher up. 

234 


235 


WHERE THE VOICE LIVED 

“Go down to the door and wait, in case she tries to 
get out, '' said the colonel. 

He returned to the room with the two men, and they 
looked at one another in frank astonishment. 

“Have you any idea what’s happened, Crewef” asked 
the colonel suspiciously. 

“No idea in the world,” said Crewe. 

“But she went downstairs,” said the colonel; “I heard 
the alarm click.” 

“The alarm?” questioned Crewe. 

“I’ve got a buzzer under one of the treads of the 
stairs,” said the colonel; “it is useful to know when 
people are coming up. It went off about twenty seconds 
after she left.” 

Ten minutes passed, and Selby returned to say that 
the policeman had been making inquiries as to whom the 
car belonged. 

“You’d better get it away,” said the colonel, “and 
send away your men.” 

“They’ve gone,” said the other. “I wasn’t taking 
any risks.” 

He disappeared to carry out the colonel’s instructions, 
and they heard the whine of the moving car. 

Boundary unlocked a cabinet and took out a full 
decanter of whisky. Without a word he poured three stiff 
doses into as many glasses and filled them with soda. 
Each man was thinking, and thinking after his own 
interests. 

Boundary looked up and saw the dagger which Pinto 
had thrown. It was still embedded in the wall. 

“It isn’t enough that I should have Jack o’ Judgment 
messing my room about,” he said, “but you must do 


236 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


something to the same wall ! Pull it out and don^t let me 
see it again, Pinto 

The Portuguese smiled sheepishly, walked to the wall 
and gripped the handle. Evidently the point had em- 
bedded in a lath, for the knife did not move. He pulled 
again, exerting all his strength, and this time succeeded in 
extracting not only the knife but a large portion of the 
plaster and a strip of the wall paper. 

^‘You fool!” said the colonel angrily. “See what you 
have done! Jumping Moses!” 

He walked to the wall and stared, for the dislodgment 
of plaster and paper had revealed three round, black 
disks, set flush with the plaster and only separated from 
the room by the wall-paper, which had been stripped. 

“Jumping Moses!” said the colonel softly. “Detecta- 
phones!” 

He took Pinto^s knife from his hand and pried one of 
the disks loose. It was attached to a wire which was 
embedded in the plaster, and this the colonel severed 
with a stroke of the knife. 

“This is^^he business end of a microphone,” he said. 

“The voice!” gasped Pinto; and the colonel nodded. 

“Of course. I was mad not to guess that,” he said; 
“thaUs how he heard and that^s how he spoke. Now, 
we’re going to get to the bottom of this. ” 

With a knife he slashed the plaster and exposed three 
wires that led straight downward and apparently 
through the floor. The colonel rested and eyed the 
debris thoughtfully. 

, “What is under this flat? Lee’s office, isn’t it? Of 
course — Lee’s!” he said. “I’m the fool!” 

He handed the knife back to Pinto, took an electric 


237 


WHERE THE VOICE LIVED 

' toch from his pocket and led the way from the flat. 
: They passed down the half darkened stairs to the floor 
j beneath, on which was situated the three sets of offices 
I The colonel took a bunch of keys and tried them on the 
door of the surveyor’s office. Presently he found one 
; that fitted, and the door opened. He fumbled about 
? for the electric switch, found it and flooded the room 
with light. It was a very ordinary clerk’s office, with a 
small counter, the flap of which was raised. Inside the 
I flap he saw something white on the floor, and, stooping, 
picked it up. It was a lady’s handkerchief. 

“L,” he read. “That sounds like Lollie. Do you know 
. this, Crewe? 

I Crewe took the handkerchief and nodded. 

^^That is Lollie's,^’ he said shortly. 

thought so. This is where she was when we were 
looking for her. Here with Jack o' Judgment, eh? Let's 
try the inner office. " 

The inner office was locked, but he had no difficulty in 
gaining admission. Inside this was a private office which 
was simply furnished and had in one corner what ap- 
; peared to be a telephone box. He opened the glass door 
' and flashed his lamp inside. There was a little desk, a 
' pair of receivers fastened to a headpiece, and a small 
i vulcanite transmitter. 

1 This is where he sat, " said the colonel meditatively, 

I pointing to a stool, ^‘and this" — he lifted up the ear 
pieces — ^4s how he heard all our very interesting con- 
: versations. Go upstairs, Pinto. I want to try this trans- 
mitter. " 

He fixed the receiver to his ears and waited, and pres- 
eiitly he heard distinctly the sound of Pinto closing the 


238 


JACK 0' JUDGMENT 


door of the room upstairs. Then he spoke through the 
receiver. 

‘‘Do you hear me, Pinto? 

“I hear you distinctly, said Pinto’s voice. 

“Speak a little lower. Carry on a conversation with 
yourself and let me try to hear you. ” 

Pinto obeyed. He recited something from the Orpheum 
revue, a line or two of a song, and the colonel heard 
distinctly every syllable. He replaced the earpieces 
where he had found them, closed the door of the box and 
that of the outer office, and led the way upstairs. The 
whisky still stood upon the table and he lifted a glass and 
drained it at a draught. 

“If you’re a linguist, Crewe, you’ll have heard of the 
phrase: ^ Sauve qui pent’ It means ‘Git!’ And that’s the 
advice I’m giving and taking. Tomorrow we’ll meet to 
liquidate the Boundary gang and split the gang fund. ” 

He turned his companions out to get what sleep they 
could. For him there was little sleep that night. Before 
the dawn came he was at Twickenham, examining a big 
motor launch that lay in a boat house. It was the launch 
which should have carried Lollie Marsh and Selby on 
their river and sea journey. It was provisioned and 
ready for the trip, but first the colonel had to take from 
a locker in the stern of the boat a small black box and dis- 
connect the wires from certain terminals before he 
stopped a little clock which ticked noisily. He had timed 
his bomb to go off at four in the morning, by which time, 
he calculated, Lollie Marsh and her escort would be well 
out to sea. For the colonel regarded no evidence that 
might be brought against him as unimportant. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


CONSCIENCE MONEY 

The colonel was sleeping peacefully when Pinto rushed 
into his bedroom with the news. He was awake in a 
second and sat up in bed. 

‘^What!^^ he said incredulously. 

“Selby’s arrested,” said Pinto, his voice shaking. 
“It’s awful! It’s dreadful! Colonel, we’ve got to get 
away today. I tell you they’ll have us ” 

“Just shut up for a minute, will you?” replied the 
colonel swinging out of bed and searching for his slippers 
with the detached interest of one who was hearing a 
little gossip from the morning papers. “What is the 
charge against him?” 

“Loitering with intent to commit a felony,” said 
Pinto. “They took him to the station and searched his 
bag. He had brought a bag with him in preparation for 
the journey. And what do you think they found?” 

“I know what they found,” said the colonel; “a com- 
plete kit of burglar’s tools. The fool must have left his 
bag in the hall, and of course Jack o’ Judgment planted 
the stuff. It is simple!” 

“What can we do?” Pinto asked pleadingly. “What 
can we do?” 

“Engage the best lawyer you can. Do it through one 
of your pals,” said the colonel. “It will go hard with 
Selby. He’s had a previous conviction.” 

“Do you think he’ll talk?” asked Pinto. 

239 


240 


JACK JUDGMENT 


He looked yellow and haggard and he had much to 
do to keep his teeth from chattering. 

^^Not for a day or two, said the colonel, ^^and we shall 
be away by then. Does Crewe know?’ ^ 

Pinto shook his head. 

haven’t any time to run about after that swine,” 
he said impatiently. 

''Well, you’d better do a little running now, then,” 
said the colonel; "we may want his signature for the 
bank. ” 

"What are you going to do?” 

"I’m going to draw every penny we’ve got, and I 
advise you to do the same. I suppose you haven’t made 
any preparations to get away, have you?” 

"No,” lied Pinto, remembering with thankfulness 
that he had received a letter that morning from the 
aviator Cartwright, telling him that the machine was in 
good order and ready to start at any moment; "no, I 
have never thought of getting away, colonel. I’ve 
always said I’ll stick to the colonel ” 

"H’m!” said the colonel, and there was no very great 
faith in Pinto revealed in his grunt. 

Crewe came along an hour later and seemed the least 
perturbed of the lot. 

"Here’s the check book,” said the colonel, taking it 
from a drawer. "Now the balance we have” — he con- 
sulted a little waistcoat pocket notebook, ‘‘is eighty-one 
thousand, three hundred and seventeen pounds. I sug- 
gest we draw eighty thousand pounds, split it three parts 
and separate tonight.” 

"What about your own private account?” asked Pinto. 

"That’s my business,” said the colonel sharply. He 


CONSCIENCE MONEY 


241 


a flourish and 

handed the pen to Crewe. 

Crewe put his name beneath, saw that the check was 
made payable to bearer, and handed the book to the 
colonel. 

“Here, Pmto.” The colonel detached the form and 
blotted it. “Take a taxicab, see Ferguson, and bring the 
money straight back here. Or, better still, go on to the 
New York Guaranty and change it into American 
money. ” 


“Do you trust Pinto?” asked Crewe bluntly after 
the other had gone. 

“No,” said the colonel; “I don^t trust Pinto or you. 
And if Pinto had plenty of time I shouldn't expect to see 
that money again. But he’s got to be back here in a 
couple of hours and I don’t think he can get away before. 
Besides, at the present juncture,” he reflected, “he 
wouldn t run away because he doesn’t know how serious 
the position is.” 

“Where are you going, colonel?” asked Crewe 
curiously. “I mean, when you get away from here.” 

Boundary’s broad face creased with smiles. 

“What a foolish question to ask!” he said. “Tim- 
buctoo, Tangier, South America, Buenos Aires, Madrid, 
China ” 

“Which means you’re not going to tell, and I don’t 
blame you,” said Crewe. 

“ Where are you going?” asked the colonel. “If you’re 
a fool you’ll tell me.” 

Crewe shrugged hfs shoulders. 

“To jail, I guess,” he said bitterly; and the colonel 
chuckled. 


242 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Maybe youVe answered the question you put to me, 
he said, ''but I'm going to make a fight first.^ Dan 
Boundary is too old in the bones and hates exercise too 
much to survive the keen air and the bracing employment 
of Dartmoor — if we ever get there," he said ominously. 

"What do you mean?" demanded Crewe. 

'^I mean that, when they’ve photographed Selby 
and circulated his picture, somebody is certain to recog- 


nize him as the man who handed the glass of water over 
the heads of the crowd when Hanson was killed. " 

"Was it Selby?" gasped Crewe. "I wasn’t in on it. : 
I knew nothing about it." 

The colonel laughed again. 

"Of course you’re not in on anything," he bantered. •. 
"Yes, it was Selby; and it is ten chances to one that 
the usher would recognize him again if he saw him. That , 
would mean — well, they don’t hang folks at Dartmoor. ’’ 
He looked at his watch again. "I expect Pinto will be j 
about an hour and a half," he said. "You will excuse f 
me," he added with elaborate politeness; "I have a lot : 


of work to do. " 


I 


He cleared the drawers of his writing table by the i 
simple process of pulling them out and emptying their 
contents upon the top. He went through these with 
remarkable rapidity, throwing the papers one by one into | 
the fire; and he was engaged in this occupation when 
Pinto returned. 

" Back already? ’’ said the colonel in surprise ; and then, 
after a glance at the other’s face, he demanded: " What’s 
wrong?" 

Pinto was incapable of speech. He just put the check 
down upon the table. 


CONSCIENCE MONEY 


243 

frownf"'"’* **• ” 'o’onel with a 


*“ a hollow voice- 

there s no money there.'' vuice, 

.The colonel picked up the check. 

nf° to meet it?” he said 

I ®oMy- And why is there no money there to meet it? ” 
Because it was drawn out three days ago. I 

In^h^Vrr P“to ‘"icoherently. “I saw Ferguson 
I and he told me that a check for the full amount came 
i through from the Bank of England." 

^*In whose favor was it drawn?" 

Pinto cleared his throat. 


chancellor of the exchequer, ” he said 
lhats why Ferguson passed it without question. He 
said that otherwise he would have sent a note to you” 
“The chancellor of the exchequer? ” asked the colonel. 
^‘What does it mean?" 

''Look here! Ferguson showed it to me himself." 
He took a copy of the Times from his pocket and laid it 
on the table, pointing out the paragraph with trembling 
fingers. ^ , 

It was in the advertisement column and it was brief: 
“The chancellor of the exchequer desires to acknowl- 
edge the receipt of eighty-one thousand pounds 
conscience money from Colonel D. B." 

"Conscience money!" 

The colonel sat back inliis chair and laughed softly. 
He was genuinely amused. 

"Of course we can get this back," he said at last. 
"We can explain to the chancellor of the exchequer the 
trick that has been played upon us, but that means delay. 


244 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


and at the moment delay is really dangerous. I suppose 
both you fellows have money of your own. I know Pinto 
has. How do you stand, Crewe? 

“I have a little, said Crewe, “but honestly I was 
depending upon my share of the gang fund. 

“What about you, colonel?'' asked Pinto meaningly. 
“If I may suggest it we should pool our money and 
divide." 

The colonel smiled. 

“Don't be silly," he said tersely. “I doubt whether 
my balance at the bank is more than a couple of thousand 
pounds. " 

“But what about your private safe-deposit box?" 
persisted Pinto. “Aha! You didn't know I knew that, 
did you? As a matter of fact, Ferguson told me that " 

“ What the devil does Ferguson mean by discussing my 
business?" said the colonel wrathfully. “What did he 
tell you?" 

“He told me that the package was received and that 
he had put it with the other in your safe. " 

’'^Package?" The^ colonel's voice was quiet, almost in- 
audible. “The package was received? When was the 
package received?" 

“Yesterday," said Pinto. “He said it came and he 
put it with the other. Now what have you got in - 

But the colonel was walking toward his bedroom with 
rapid strides. Presently he reappeared with his hat and 
his coat on. 

“Come with me, Crewe, we'll go down to the bank," 
he said. “You stay here, Pinto, and report anything 
that happens." 

When they were on their way he confided to the other: 


CONSCIENCE MONEY 


245 


I have a little money put aside and I’m willine to 
finance you. You haven’t been a bad fellow, Crewe The 
on y rotten turn you ever did us was introducing that 
fellow, Snow Gregory, and you didn’t even do that for I 

had met him before you brought him from Monte 

Which reminds me. Have you found anything about 


I have a letter here from Oxford,” said Crewe 
putting his hand in his pocket. “I hadn’t opened mv 
letters when Pinto came. You’ll find all the news there 
if there is any news. ’’ ^ 

He handed the envelope to the other, and the colonel ' 
. transferred it to his pocket. 

; “That’ll keep,” he said. “What was I talking about? 

Oh, yes — Gregory. The whole of this business has come 

about through Gregory. Gregory made Jack o’ Judgment 

and Jack o’ Judgment has ruined us.” 

He sprang from the taxi at the door of the bank with 
an agile step and went straight to the manager’s office. 
Without any preliminary he began. 

What is this package that came for me yesterday 
i Ferguson?” ^ 

The manager looked surprised. 

'Ht was an ordinary package, similar to that which 
you put in the safe the other day. It Was sealed and 
; wrapped, and had your name on it. I rather wondered 
I you hadn’t brought it yourself, but it was put into your 
' safe in the presence of two clerks. ” 

I’d like to see it, ” said the colonel. 

Ferguson led the way down the stairs to the vault 
and snapped back the lock of box twenty. As he did so 
■Crewe was conscious of a faint musty odor. 


246 ; 


JACK JUDGMENT 


smell something, said the colonel suspiciously. . 

He reached his hand into the box and pulled open the 
long drawer, and as he did so a cloud of sickly smelling 
vapor rose from its interior. For the first time Crewe 
heard Boundary groan. He pulled the drawer out under 
the light and looked in. There was nothing but a black 
mass of pulp, out of which glinted and gleamed a dozen 
pin points of light. 

With a howl of rage the colonel turned the contents 
upon the stone floor of the vault and raked it over with 
the end of his walking stick. The diamonds were intact, 
and they at least were something; but the greater part 
of eight hundred thousand dollars was indistinguishable 
from any other kind of paper that had been treated 
with one of the most destructive acids known to chemical 
science. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


THE AVIATOR 

The colonel wiped his burned and discolored hands 
after he had dropped the last diamond into a medicine 
bottle which the bank manager happened to have in 
the room. 

That’s something saved from the wreck, at any 
rate,” he said. 

He had gone suddenly old and his mouth trembled, 
as many a younger mouth had trembled in despair so 
that Colonel Boundary might become a rich man. 

“Something saved from the wreck,” he repeated 
slowly. 

The manager’s grave eyes were fixed on his. 

“I’m not blaming you, Ferguson,” said the colonel. 
“It was a plot to ruin me, and it succeeded.” 

“What do you think happened?” asked the troubled 
; Ferguson. 

“The second package was a box filled with a very 
strong acid,” said the colonel. “Probably the box was 
: made of soft metal, through which the ac:d would eat 
? in a few hours. It was placed in the safe, and in time 
: the corrosive worked through.” 

J He shrugged his shoulders and left the room without 
I another word. 

' “Thirty-five years’ work, that represents, Crewe,” he 
Ssaid as they were driving back to the flat; “thirty-five 
i 247 


248 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


years of risk and thought and organization, and ended 
in pulp that burns your fingers when you touch it. 

“Jack o’ Judgment!” he went on wonderingly. “Jack 
o’ Judgment! Well, he’s had his judgment, all right, 
and I’m going to have mine. You needn’t tell Pinto 
what happened this morning. Leave him guessing. He’s 
got a pretty thick bank roll, and I’ll agree to that grand 
scheme of his for sharing.” 

The thought seemed to cheer him, and by the time 
they reached the fiat he was almost jovial. 

“Well, what’s the news?” asked Pinto eagerly. 

“Fine,” said the colonel. “Everything is as it should 
be.” 

“ Stop fooling,” replied the other. “ What is the news? ” 

“The news,” said the colonel, “is that I’ve decided 
to agree to your unselfish suggestion.” 

“What’s that?” said the unsuspicious Pinto. 

“That we should pool and divide.” 

“Jack o’ Judgment’s got your money, too!”*^ said 
Pinto, who cherished no illusions about the colonel’s 
generosity. 

“How well he knows me!” said Boundary. “Now 
come, Pinto; we’re all in this, sink or swim. I told Crewe 
going down that I intended dividing; didn’t I, Crewe?” 

“You said something like that,” said Crewe cautiously. 

“Now we’ll pool our money,” said the colonel, “and 
divide it three ways. I’ll make a fair proposition. We’ll 
divide it into foiii, and the man who puts in the most 
shall take two shares. Is it a bet?” 

“I suppose so,” said Pinto reluctantly. “What is the 
truth about your money? Did Jack o’ Judgment get it? ” 

“I hadn’t any money,” said the colonel blandly. 


THE AVIATOR 


249 




“I’ve about a thousand pounds hidden away in this 
room; that is all — if Jack hasn't been in." 

He unlocked the safe and made an inspection. 

Yes, a little over a thousand, if anything. How much 
have you, Crewe? " 

Three thousand," said Crewe. 


That makes four thousand. Now what have vou 
got, Pinto?" 

^HVe about five thousand," said Pinto, trying to 
appear unconcerned. 

The colonel made a little whistling noise through his 
teeth. 

“Bring fifty,” he said. “I’m dead serious, Pinto. 
Brmg fifty!" 


But how can I get it? " demanded the other frantically. 
''Get it," said the colonel. “It is highly probable 
that it will be no use to any of us. Let us at least have 
the illusion of being well off." 


* * s|c 

In greater leisure than either of her three companions 
in crime were exhibiting, Lollie Marsh was preparing to 
take her departure to New York. She was packing at 
leisure in her cozy flat on Tavistock Avenue, stopping 
now and again to consider the problem of the superfluous 
'article of clothing — a problem which presents itself to 
all packers. 

Between whiles she arrested her labors to think of 
isomething else. Kneeling down by the side of her trunk, 
she would give herself up to long reveries which ended 
In a sigh and the resumption of her packing. 

I By the commonly accepted standards of civilization 




250 


JACK JUDGMENT 


she was a wicked woman, but there are degrees of wicked- 
ness. She had searched her mind to recall all the qualms 
she had felt in her long association with the Boundary 
gang, and took an unusual pleasure in her strange col- 
lection. She remembered when she had refused to be 
drawn into the Crotin fraud; she recalled her stormy 
interview with the colonel, when she declined to take a 
part in the ruining of young Debenham. 

But mostly she was glad that she had never gone any 
further to carry out the coloneFs instructions in regard 
to Stafford King. Not that she would have succeeded, 
she told herself, with a little smile, but she was glad she 
had never seriously tried. 

Her mind switched to Crewe and switched back again. 
Crewe was the one face she did not wish to see, the one 
member of the gang that she put aside from the others 
and willfully veiled. Crewe had always been kind to her, 
always courteous, her champion in all bad times. She 
wondered what had brought him down to his present 
level, and why a man possessed of education, and who 
at one time, as she knew, had been an officer in a crack 
regiment, should have fallen so readily under Boundary’s 
influence. 

She made a little face and went on with her packing. 
She did not want to think about Crewe for obvious 
reasons. Yet, as he had said — but he hadn’t said, she 
told herself. 

She took a delight in torturing herself with pictures of,, 
her own humiliation, though she may have counted it 
to the good that she was capable of feeling humiliated S 
at all. She finished her trunk, squeezed in the last article; ’ j 
and locked down the lid. She looked at her wrist watch,' 


THE AVIATOR 


251 


it was half past nine. Stafford King had not asked to 
see her, and she had the evening free. 

She had only spoken the truth when she had told 
Boundary that the police chief had made no inquiries 
as to the gang. Stafford King knew human nature rather 
well, and he would not make the mistake of questioning 
her. Or perhaps it was because he did not wish to spoil 
the value of his gifts by fixing a price — the price of 
treachery. 

She wondered what the colonel was doing, and Pinto 

and Crewe. She stamped her foot impatiently. She 
was indulging in the kind of insanity of which hitherto 
she had shown no symptoms. She looked at her watch 
again and then remembered the Orpheum. It was a 
favorite house of hers. She could always get a free box, 
if there was one vacant, and she had spent many of her 
lonely evenings in that way. She had always declined 
Pinto’s offer to share his own, and of late he had not 
been inviting her. 

She dressed and took a taxi to the Orpheum. The 
booking-office clerk knew her and, without asking her 
desires, drew a slip from the ticket rack. 

“I can give you box C tonight. Miss M&rsh” he said. 
^‘That is the one above the ‘ governor's 

The governor was Pinto. 

“Have you a good house? 

The youth shook his head. 

“We are not having the houses we had when Miss 
White was here,’' he said. “What’s become of her 
miss?” 

“I don’t know,” said Lollie shortly. 

She had to pass to the back of Pinto’s box to reach the 


252 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


little staircase which led to the box above. She thought 
she heard voices, and, stopping in the door, listened. 
Perhaps Crewe had come down or the colonel. But it 
was not Crewels voice she heard. The door was slightly 
ajar, and the man who was talking was evidently on the 
point of departure, because she glimpsed his hand upon 
the handle and his voice was so distinct that he must 
have been quite near her. 

three o^clock in the morning. You can^t miss 

the aerodrome. It is a mile out of Bromley on the main 
road and on the right. You will see three red lamps 
burning in a triangle.’^ 

The aerodrome! She put her hand to her mouth to 
suppress an exclamation. Pinto was talking, but his 
voice was a mumble. 

^^Very good,^^ said the strange voice. can carry 
three or four passengers if you like. There’s plenty of 
room. Of course, if you’re by yourself, so much the 
better. I shall expect you at three o’clock. The weather’s 
fine.” 

The door opened, and she crouched against the wall 
so that the opening door hid her, and heard Pinto call 
the man back by name. 

''Cartwright,” she repeated; "Cartwright. A mile out 
of Bromley on the main road. Three lamps in a red 
triangle!” 

She was going to slip up the stairs, but the door had 
closed on Cartwright, and making a swift decision, she 
passed his box and came again into the vestibule of the 
theater. Presently she saw the man appear. She guessed 
it was he by the smile on his face, and when he said 
"Good night” to the attendant at the barrier she recog- 


; the aviator 253 

nized his voice. She followed him, but let him get out- 
eide the theater before she spoke to him. Then suddenly 
she laid her hand on his arm. uuuemy 

“Isn’t it Mr. Cartwright?” she asked. 

uSg'oThishr'' “ “n-*. 

‘That IS my name,” he said with a smile. “I don’t 
remember uuu u 

a lofaLL" Jom’’ " 

^^Oh, indeed? said he. 

He w^ a little puzzled because he thought that the 
thSS ^ dead ‘secret, and she guessed his 

“You won’t teU Mr. Silva I told you? He begged me 
not to repeat it to anybody, even to you. But I know he’s 
leaving tomorrow morning; isn’t he?” 

He nodded. 

j| "‘I know an awful lot,” she said; and then: '"Won’t 
|iyou come and have supper with me? I’m starving?” 
Cartwright hesitated. He had not expected so charm- 
^ diversion and really there was no. reason why he 
should not accept the invitation. He was not due at 
Bromley until early in the morning, and the girl was 
S^oung and pretty and evidently a friend of his employer 
It was she who hailed the taxi, and they drove to a select 
ittle restaurant at the back of Shaftesbury Avenue 
You’re not seeing Pinto — I mean, Mr. SHva — again 
;onight, are you? ” she asked. 

"No; I’m not seeing him until — well, until I see 
lim. ” He smiled again. 

"Well, I want to tell you something.'^ 


254 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


He thought she was charmingly embarrassed, and in 
truth she was to invent the story she had to tell. 

^^You know why Mr. Silva is leaving England in such 
a hurry? 

He nodded. She wished she knew, too, or had the 
slightest inkling of the yarn which Pinto had spun. And 
then the man enlightened her. 

^‘Political,^^ he said. 

Exactly; political, she said easily. ^^But you will 
realize that it is not necessarily he who is making this 
flight. ” 

^‘1 did understand that he was making the flight 
himself, ’’ said the aviator in surprise. 

But ' — she was desperate now — ''has he never 
told you of the other gentleman who was coming, the 
other political person who really must go to Portugal 
at once?" 

"No, he certainly did not, "said Cartwright; "he told 

me distinctly that he was going himself. " 

The girl leaned back in her chair, bafiied but thought- 
ful. 

"Oh, of course he told you that," she said with a 
knowing smile. "You see, there are some things he is 
not allowed to tell you. But do not be surprised if you i 
have two passengers instead of one. " 

"I shan’t be surprised; I shall be pleased. The 
machine will carry half a dozen, " said Cartwright 
readily, "but I certainly thought " 

Wait till you see him, " said the girl, waving a finger 
with mock solemnity. 

He found her a cheerful companion through the meal, 
but there were certain intervals of abstraction in her 


THE AVIATOR 


255 


cheerfulness, intervals when she was thinking very 
rapidly and reconstructing the plan which Pinto had 
made. So he was one of the rats who were deserting the 
sinking ship and leaving the colonel and Crewe to face 
the music. And Crewe — that was the thought upper- 
most in her mind. 

When she parted from the pilot she had only one 
thought — to warn the colonel of Pinto’s treachery — 
and to warn Crewe. And somehow Crewe seemed to 
bulk most importantly at that moment. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


LOLLIE PKOPOSES 

What should she do? It was her sense of loyalty which 
brought the colonel first to her mind. She must warn 
him. She went into a tube-station telephone box and 
rang his apartment, but received no answer. Her quest 
for Crewe had as little result. She drove off to the flat, 
thinking that possibly the telephone might be out of 
order, or that they would have returned by the time 
she reached there, but there was no answer to her ring. 
She went out again into the street in despair and walked 
slowly toward Regent Street. Then she saw two people 
ahead of her and recognized the swing of the colonel’s 
shoulders. She broke into a run and overtook them. 
The colonel swung round as she uttered his name and 
peered at her. 

^‘Lollie!” he said in surprise, and he looked past her 
as though seeking some police shadow. 

have something important to tell you,” she said. 
^‘Let us go up here.” 

They turned into a deserted side street, and rapidly 
she told her story. 

^^So Pinto’s getting out, is he?” said the colonel 
thoughtfully. ^‘Well, it is no more than I expected. 
An aeroplane, too! Well, that’s enterprising. I thought 
of something of the sort, but there’s nowhere I could go, 
256 


LOLLIE PROPOSES 


257 


except to America/^ He dropped his head onto his 
chest and was considering something. Thank you, 
Lollie,” he said simply. “I’m glad that you didn’t go 
with Selby; you would never have got to the Continent 
alive.”' 

He said this in an ordinary conversational tone, and the 
girl gasped. She did not ask him for an explanation and 
he offered none. Crewe, standing in the background, 
looked at the man with something like bewilderment. 

“And now I think you’d better make a real get-away 
and not trust to the police,” said the colonel. “Maybe 
with the best intentions in the world Stafford King can’t 
save you if I happen to be arrested. And you, too, 
Crewe. ” He turned to the other. 

“So Pinto is going, eh?” He bit his nether lip. “And 
that is why he promised to bring the fifty thousand 
tomorrow morning. Well, somehow I don’t think Pinto 
will go.” He spoke deliberately. “I don’t think Pinto 
will go.” 

“It is too dangerous for you to stop him, ” said Crewe. 

“ I shall not try to stop him, ” said the other. “ There’s 
somebody besides myself on Pinto’s track, and that some- 
body is going to pull him down.” 

“But why don’t you escape, colonel?” she urged. 
“There is the aeroplane waiting at Bromley. We could 
easily persuade the man that Pinto sent us. ” 

He shook his head. 

“You take your own advice,” he said, “and clear 
out tonight. Get her away, Crewe. Don’t worry about 
the police. You’ve got twenty-four hours. This is Pinto’s 
night,” he said between his teeth, “Pinto’s night — the 
dirty hound!” 


258 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


Slowly they paced the street together in silence. When 
they came to the end the colonel turned. 

want to shake hands with you, Lollie. I shook 
hands with you once before, intending to send you to a 
very quick decease. You’re carrying your money with 
you, aren’t you, Crewe? ” 

^^Yes, ” said the other. 

^^Good!” responded the colonel. ^^Now get away.” 

He took no other farewell, but turned abruptly and 
left them. Crewe was following him, but the girl caught 
his arm. 

‘‘Don’t go, ” she said in a low voice; “don’t you know 
the colonel better?” 

“I hate leaving him like this,” he said. 

“So do I,” said the girl quietly; “I’ve still got some 
decent feeling left. We’re all in this together. We’re all 
crooks as bad as we can possibly be, and if he’s used us 
we’ve been willing tools. What is your Christian name?” 
she asked. 

He looked at her in surprise. 

“Jack,” he said. “What a weird question to ask!” 

“Isn’t it?” she said with a laugh but a little catch in 
her throat. “ Only we’re to be comrades and stick to one 
another, and I hate calling you by your surname, so I’m 
going to call you Jack.” 

It was his turn to be amused. They walked in the 
opposite direction to that which the colonel had taken. 

“You’re very quiet,” she said after a while. 

“Aren’t I?” He laughed. 

“Have I offended you?” she asked quickly. “Was it 
wrong to call you Jack? Oh, yes, somebody else must 
have called you Jack.” 


LOLLIE PROPOSES 


259 


''No, no, it isn^t that,^^ he said, “but I haven’t been 
called by my Christian name for years and years, and 
somehow it seems to span all the bad times and take me 
back to the — the ” 

The Jack’ days?” she suggested, and he nodded. 

Then after another period of silence he said: 

''This is a queer ending to it all, isn’t it?” Her heart 
skipped a beat. 

“Ending?” she whispered. “No, no, not ending! 
It may be the beginning of a new life and a new way 
of living that life. I’m not getting sentimental,” she 
added quickly. “Only I’ve faith that there’s something 
better in life than I’ve ever found.” 

“I should think there is,” said Crewe. “It couldn’t 
be much worse, could it?” 

“I haven’t been bad,” she said, “not bad like you 
probably think I have.” 

“I never thought you were bad,” he said; “you were 
just a victim like the rest of them. You were only a kid 
when you started working for the colonel, weren’t 
you?” 

She nodded. 

“Well, there’s a chance for you, Lollie. Your passage 
is booked and all that sort of thing. Have you sufficient 
money? ” 

“ I’ve plenty of money, ” she said. 

“Fine!” He dropped his hand lightly on her shoulder. 
“ There’s a big chance for you, my girl. ” 

“And for you?” she asked. 

He laughed. 

“There is no chance for me at all,” he said simply; 
“they’ll take me and they’ll take Pinto, and last of all 


260 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


they’ll take the colonel. It is written, ” he added philo- 
sophically. “Why, what is the matter?” 

She stood stock-still and was holding onto his arm with 
both hands. 

“You mustn’t say that, you mustn’t say that!” she 
said brokenly. “ It isn’t finished for you, Jack. There’s a 
chance to get out, and the colonel has told you there’s a 
chance. He meant it. He knows much more than we do. 
If you ve got murder on your soul, or something worse, 
if you feel that you’re altogether so bad that there isn’t a 
chance for you, that there’s no goodness in your life which 
can be expanded, why, just wait and take what’s coming. 
But if you feel that in another land, with — with some 

one who loves you by your side ” i 

Her voice broke. 

Why, Lollie, ” he said gently, “you don’t mean ” 

“I’m just as shameless as I’ve ever been,” she said,'? 

“and I’m proposing to — to ” She stopped, blush- ^ 

ing. Then she took a fresh start. ^^I’m going away to a / 

new land and a new life. Do you want — will you ” 

“ Will I go? ” he asked. T 

She nodded. ^ 

“I’ll go anywhere with that prospect in sight.” He ’ 
slipped his arm round her shoulders, and, bending ' 
kissed her on the cheek. ^ 

■V: 




CHAPTER XXXVII 


THE FALL OF PINTO 

While Pinto was putting the finishing touches to his 
scheme of fiight, the colonel paced his room, whistling 
jerkily. He was restless and nervous, and rendered all 
the more irritable by the disappearance of his servant, 
a minor member of the gang, who had been a participant 
in every act of villainy, and who had been in charge of 
the arrangements for the abduction of Maisie White. 
Twice in the course of the evening he wandered through 
the hall, opened the outer door, and looked out onto the 
landing. 

On the first occasion there was nothing to see, but on 
the second it was only by the narrowest margin of time 
that he failed to detect a dark figure moving noiselessly 
up the stairs and disappearing onto the second landing. 
The man above heard the door open and close again, and 
stood waiting. Then, when no sound reached him, he 
moved to the door of Pinto’s flat, opened it, deposited the 
suit case which he was carrying in the hall, and closed 
the door softly behind him. 

He was within for about a quarter of an hour; then he 
reappeared, and, still carrying his suit case, passed 
swiftly down the stairs and out into the street. The clock 
struck half past nine as he disappeared, and a quarter of 
an hour later Stafford King received by special messenger 
261 


262 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


a communication which gave him something to think 
about. He read it through twice, then called up the 
first commissioner and gave him the gist of it. 

''That's the third time we've had this sort of message, " 
he said. 

"The others have proved right," said the com- 
missioner's voice; "why shouldn't this?" 

"But it seems incredible," said Stafford in perplexity. 
"We've been watching these people for years and we've 
never found them with the goods. " 

"I should certainly act on it. King, if I were you, " said 
the commissioner. “Let me know what happens. Of 
course you may make a mistake, but you must take a 
chance on that." 

^ Pinto had a lot of business to do at the theater that 
night. For a week he had not banked the theater's earn- 
ings, but had converted them into paper money, and 
now he took from his safe the last penny he could carry. 
It was half past eleven when he arrived at his club, where 
supper had been prepared for him. He paid the bill 
from notes he had taken from the bank that day. Pres- 
ently the waiter came back. 

I beg your pardon, sir, but the cashier says that 
this note is a bad one. " 

"A bad one?" said Pinto in surprise, and took it in his 
hand. 

There was no doubt whatever that the man was right. 

It was the most obvious forgery he had ever handled. 

"Then I've been stung. He smiled. '^Here's 
another. " 

He took the second note and examined it. That also 
was bad, as he could tell at a glance. In the tail pocket of 


THE FALL OF PINTO 


263 


his dress coat he had the money he had taken from the 
theater, and was able to settle the bill. 

He was worried on the journey back to the flat. He 
had drawn a hundred pounds from the bank that morn- 
ing in five-pound notes. He remembered putting them 
into his pocketbook and had had no occasion to disturb 
them since. It was unlikely that the bank would have 
given him such obvious forgeries. He was stepping from 
the taxi when the awful truth dawned on him. The notes 
had been planted, the forgeries substituted for the good 
paper ! He was putting his hand in his pocket, intending 
to take out the money and push it down the nearest 
drain, when he was gripped. 

“Sorry and all that,’^ said a voice. 

He turned round, shaking like an aspen. 

“Stafford King!” he said dully. 

“Stafford King it is. I have a warrant for your arrest, 
Silva, on a charge of counterfeiting and passing forged 
notes. Bring him up to his rooms. ” 

The colonel heard the noise on the stairs and came to 
the door. He stood, a silent spectator, watching with 
unmoved face the procession as it passed up to the floor 
above. 

“I want your key,” said Stafford; and humbly the 
Portuguese handed it to him. 

Stafford opened the door and snapped on the light. 

“Bring him in,” he said to the detective who held 
Pinto. “What room is this?” 

“My dining room,” said Pinto faintly. 

Stafford entered the room, turning on the light as he 
did so. 

“Hello, Pinto!” he said. 


264 JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 

Pinto could only look. 

The table was littered with copper plates and ink 
rollers. There was a thick pad of counterfeit money on 
one corner of the table, held down by a paper weighti- 
little bottles of acids were scattered about, and near the 
table was a small lever press, so small that a man might 
carry it in a corner of his hand bag. 

think I have got you, Pinto, said Stafford King; 
and Pinto Silva nodded before he fell limply into the arms 
of his captor. v 

Maisie White had gone to bed early. The bell rang . 
three times before she awoke. She slipped into a dressing | 
gown and, going to the window, leaned out. She looked % 
down upon the upturned face of a girl, and in spite of I, 
the distance and the darkness of the night, recognized H 
her. The man who stood in the background, however, S 
she could not for the moment place. Nevertheless, she < 
did not hesitate to go downstairs. 

‘‘Is that Miss White?” asked the girl. | 

“ Yes. It is Lollie Marsh, isn’t it? Won’t you come ^ 
in?” Ji 

T 11* 

Lolhe was hesitant. | 

Yes, ’ she said after a while, a.J they went upstairs fc 
together. “I’m very sorry I disturbed you. Miss White, | 
but It is a matter which can’t very well wait. You know I 
that Mr. Stafford King has been kind to me?” f 

Maisie nodded. She was looking at the girl with S 
interest, and was surprised to note how pretty she was. t 
She could not forget what Lollie Marsh had done for ^ 
her that dreadful night at the nursing home, and if the ^ 
truth be told, she had inspired the assistance which Staf- | 
ford had been giving the girl. 


THE FALL OF PINTO 


265 


‘‘Mr. King has booked my passage to America, as 
you probably know,^’ Lollie went on, “but at the last 
moment I have been obliged to change my plans. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said the girl; “I was hoping 
that you’d get away before ” 

“I am hoping to get away before” — Lollie smiled 
faintly — “but, you see, one has to be very quick, be- 
cause things are moving at such a rapid rate. They 
arrested Pinto tonight — we only just heard of it.” 

“Arrested Silva?” said the girl in surprise. “That is 
news to me. What is the charge? ” 

“I didn’t quite understand what the charge was. I 
know he’s arrested,” said Lollie. “And the colonel has 
advised me to get out as quickly as I can. And there’s a 
big chance for me. Miss White. I’m going to be married ! ” 

She blurted the words out, and Maisie stared at her. 
Somehow she had never thought of Lollie Marsh as a 
person who would get married, and it was amazing to 
see the confusion and shyness into which her confession 
had thrown her. 

“I congratulate you with all my heart,” said Maisie. 
“Who is the fortunate man?” 

“ I can’t tell you. Yes, I will, ” said the girl; “ I’ll trust 
you — I’m marrying Jack Crewe.” 

“Crewe? I remember. Mr. King spoke about him. 
But isn’t he one of the — isn’t he a friend of the 
colonel’s?” 

Lollie nodded. 

“Yes, but we’re going away tonight. That is why I 
came to see you.” 

Maisie White clasped the girl’s hands in hers. 

“You yourself are facing a great happiness and a 


266 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


beautiful new life/^ pleaded Lollie, her eyes filling with 
tears; ‘^can^t you feel some sympathy with me? For I 
want love and happiness and security more even than 
you, because you have never known anything of the 
dreadful apprehensions and uncertainties such as I have , 
passed through. And I want you to help me in this. I 
I’m not going to ask you to influence Mr. King to dor’ 
anything but his duty. But I want just a chance for 
Jack.” 

Maisie shook her head. 

don’t know that I can promise that,” she said. 
^‘Mr. King has always spoken of your friend as one of the 
least dangerous of the gang. When are you leaving?” 

Tonight. ” 

“Tonight? But how?” ; 

“That’s a secret.” 

“But it is a secret I won’t reveal.” Maisie smiled. 

“By aeroplane,” said Lollie after a moment’s hesita- [ 
tion, and told the story of Pinto’s preparation. 

“You’d better not tell me where you’re going, ” warned 
Maisie, but she didn’t stop Lollie in time. “Well, I wish 
you luck and I’ll do my best for you. ” 

She stooped and kissed the girl. 

“There’s one warning I want to give you. Miss White, ” 
said Lollie as she stood in the doorway. “The colonel ‘ 
is a desperate man, and I don’t think, somehow, that 
he’s coming through this with his life. He’s been a good 
friend of mine up to a point and according to his lights, 
but you’ve been good and Mr. King has been more than 
good. Beware of the colonel now that you have him at 
bay! That is all!” 

Then she was gone. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


OLD FILMS 

They brought Pinto Silva into the magistrate’s court 
at Bow Street the following morning in a condition of 
collapse. The man was dazed by his misfortune, inca- 
pable of answering the questions which were put to him, 
or even of instructing the exasperated solicitor who had 
been with him for an hour. 

By the solicitor’s side was a gray-faced, shrunken man, 
whose clothes did not seem to fit him and who at the 
end of the proceedings whispered something into the 
lawyer’s ear. But the application which was made for 
bail was rejected. The evidence was too damning, and 
the knowledge that the prisoner was not English and 
that it would be impossible to extradite him if he managed 
to make his escape to another country, all helped to 
influence the magistrate in his refusal. 

Colonel Boundary did not speak to the man under 
arrest or as much as look at him. He got out of court 
after the proceedings had terminated, the cynosure of 
every policeman’s eye, and drove back to his apartments. 
He had not heard from Crewe or Lollie that morning, 
and he guessed that the two had left by aeroplane. So 
he was alone, he thought, and the very knowledge had 
the effect of stiffening him. 

He could go through the remainder of his papers at 
his leisure, without fear of interruption. The lesser 
267 


268 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


members of the gang had been controlled by Selby or 
Crewe, and they would not approach him directly, but 
he did not doubt that there were a score of little men 
waiting to jump into the witness box the moment he 
was caught, but he had by no means given up hope of 
escaping. 

For days he had carried in his pocket the means of 
disguise — a safety razor, scissors, and a small bottle of 
a solution to darken his face. 

Despite his sixty-one years, he was a healthy and 
virile man, capable of undergoing hardships if the neces- 
sity arose, but, above all, he had a plan and an alter- 
native plan. 

He finished the destruction of his correspondence, 
and then began to search his pocket for any stray letters 
which he might have put away absent-mindedly. In 
making this search he came upon a long white envelope 
addressed to Crewe, and wondered how it had come into 
his possession. Then he remembered that Crewe had 
handed him a letter. 

He looked at the postmark From the college town 
where Snow Gregory had once been a resident. 

This was the report of the agents whom Crewe had 
sent down to discover the names of the men who had 
left the university in a certain year. Snow Gregory, who 
had been found shot in the streets of London, had left 
he college in that year. It was certain that it was a 
relative of Snow Gregory who was called Jack o’ Judg- 
ment and who had taken upon himself the task of aveng- 
ing the man’s death. ^ 


What was Snow Gregory’s real name? If he could find 
that, he might find Jack o’ Judgment. 


OLD FILMS 


269 


Slowly, as though with a sense that the great dis- 
covery was imminent, he tore open the letter and pulled 
out the three foolscap pages which, with a covering note, 
constituted the contents. There were two Hsts of names 
of graduates who had passed Put in the year which, if 
Snow Gregory spoke the truth in a moment of unusual 
confidence, was the year of his leaving. 

The colonel’s finger traced the lines one by one, and 
he finished the first list without discovering a name which 
was familiar. He was halfway through the second list 
when he stopped and his finger jumped. For fully three 
minutes he sat glaring at the paper open-mouthed. Then: 

Merciful Heaven!” he whispered. 

He sat there for the greater part of an hour, his chin 
on his hand, his eyes glued to the name. And all the time 
his active mind was running back through the years, 
piecing together the evidence which enabled him to 
identify Jack o’ Judgment without any shadow of doubt. 

He rose and went to his bookcase and took down 
volume after volume. They were mostly reference books, 
and for some time he searched in vain. Then he found a 
year book which gave him the data he wanted and he 
brought it back to the table and scribbled a few notes. 
These he read through and carefully burned. 

He finished his labors with a bright look in his eye 
and strutted into his bedroom ten years younger in 
appearance than he had been that afternoon. He put 
out all the lights and sat for a little while in the shadow 
of the curtain, watching the street from the open window. 
At the corner of the block a street band was playing, 
and he was surprised that he had not noticed the 
fact. 


270 


JACK O’ JUDGMENT 


Very keenly he scrutinized the street for some sign of 
a lurking figure, and once he saw a man walk past under 
the light of a street lamp and melt into the shadow of a 
doorway on the opposite side of the road. He went into 
his bedroom and brought back a pair of night glasses, 
and focused them upon the figure. 

He chuckled and went out of the flat into the street 
turning southward. He did not go far, however, before he 
stopped and looked back, and his patience was rewarded 
by the sight of a figure crossing the road and entering 
the building he had just left. 

The colonel gave him time, and then retracted his 
steps.^ He took off his boots in the vestibule and went 
upstairs quietly. He was halfway up when he heard the 
soft thud of his own door closing and grinned again. He 
gave the intruder time to get inside before he, too 
inserted his key, and, turning it without a sound, 'came 
into the darkened hall. There was a light in his room 
and he heard the sound of a drawer being pulled open' 
Then he gripped the handle, and, flinging the door open* 
stepped m. The man who was looking through the desk ' 
sprang up in affright. 

As Boundary had suspected, it was his former butler 
the man who had deserted him the day before without a ' 
word. He was a big, heavy-jowled man of powerful build 
and the momentary look of fright melted to a leer at 
the sight of the colonel’s face. 

'‘Well, Tom,” said Boundary pleasantly, ^‘come back 
for the pickings?” 

“Something like that, guv’nor,” said the other. “You 

don’t blame me?” 

“ I’ve been pretty good to you, Tom, ’’ said the colonel. 


OLD FILMS 


271 


“Ugh! I don’t know that I’ve anything to thank you 
for.” 

Here was a man who a month before would have 
cringed at the colonel’s upraised finger. 

“ Oh, don’t you, Tom? ” said Boundary softly. “ Come, 
come, that’s not very grateful. ” 

“ What have I got to be grateful to you for? ” demanded 
the man. 

“Grateful that you’re alive, Tom,” said the colonel 
and the servant’s face went hard. 

“None of that, colonel, ” he retorted, “you can’t afford 
to talk fresh with me. I know a great deal more about 
you than you suppose. You think I’ve got no brains.” 

“I know you have brains, Tom,” said the colonel, 
“but you can’t use ’em.” 

“Can’t! eh? I haven’t been looking after you for 
four or five years and doing your dirty work, colonel, 
without picking up a little intelligence — and a little 
information! You’d look funny if they put me in the 
witness box!” 

He was gaining courage at the very mildness of the 
man of whom he once stood in terror. 

“So you’ve come for the pickings?” said the colonel 
ignoring the threat. “Well, help yourself.” 

He went to the sideboard, poured himself out a little 
whisky, and sat down by the window to watch the man 
search. Tom pulled open another drawer and closed it 
again. 

“Now look here, colonel,” he said; “I haven’t made 
so much money out of this business as you have. Things 
are pretty bad with me, and I think the least you can do 
is to give me something to remember you by.” 


272 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


The colonel did not answer. Apparently his thoughts 
were wandering. 

^‘Tom, ” he said after a while, “do you remember three 
months ago I bought a lot of old moving-picture films? 

“Yes, I remember,^’ said the man, surprised at thei 
change of subject. “ What^s that to do with it?^^ 

“ There were about ten boxes, weren’t there? ” 

“A dozen, more likely,” said the man impatiently. 
“Now look here, colonel, I ” 

“Wait a moment, Tom. I’ll discuss your share when 
you’ve given me a httle help. Meeting you here — by the j 
way, I saw you out of the window, skulking on the other | 
side of the street — has given me an idea. Where did i 
you put those films?” 

The man grinned. 

“Are you starting a moving-picture company, 
colonel?” 

“Something like that,” replied Boundary; “it was 
the band that gave me the idea really. Do you hear what 
an infernal noise that drum makes?” 

The man made a gesture of impatience. 

“What is it you want?” he asked. “If you want the 
film, I put it in my pantry, underneath the silver cup- 
board. I suppose now that the partnership’s broken up 
you don’t object to me taking the silver? I might be 
starting a little house of my own. ” 

“Certainly, certainly, you can take the silver,” said 
the colonel genially. “Bring me the film.” 

The man was halfway out of the room when he turned 
round. 

“No tricks, mind you,” he said, “no doing funny 
business when my back’s turned. ” 


OLD FILMS 


273 


shall not move from the chair, Tom. You don’t 
seem to trust me. ” 

The ex- valet made two journeys before he deposited 
a dozen shallow tin boxes on the desk. 

“There they are,” he said. “Now tell me what’s the 
game. ” 

“First of all,” said the colonel, “were you serious 
when you suggested that you knew something about me 
that would be worth a lot to the police? There goes that 
drum again, Tom. Do you know what use that drum 
is to me?” 

“I don’t know, ” replied the man. “Of course I meant 
what I said. And what’s this stuff about the drum?” 

“W^ j. the people in the street can hear nothing when 
that’s going, ” said the colonel softly. 

He put his hand in the inside of his coat, as though 
searching for a pocket-book, and so quick was he that the 
man, leaning over the table, did not see the weapon that 
killed him. Three times the colonel fired. The man slid 
in an inert heap to the ground. 

“Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, Tom,” 
said the colonel, replacing the weapon, and turning the 
body over; he took the scarf pin from his own tie and 
fastened it in that of the dead man. Then he took his 
watch and chain from his pocket and slipped them in 
the waistcoat pocket of the other. He had a, signet ring 
on his little finger, and this he transferred to the finger 
of the limp figure. 

Then he began opening the boxes of old films and 
twisted their contents about the floor, pinning them to the 
curtains, twining them about the legs of the chairs, all the 
time whistling. He found a candle in the butler’s pantry 


274 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


and planted it with a steady hand in the heap of celluloid 
coils. This he lighted with great care and went out, 
closing the door softly behind him. Half an hour later 
Albermarle Place was blocked with fire engines and a 
dozen horses were playing in vain upon the roaring fur- 
nace behind the gutted walls of Colonel Dan Boundary's 
residence. 

Stafford King was an early caller at Doughty Street, 
and Maisie knew, both by the unusual hour of the visit 
and by the gravity of the visitor, that something extraor- 
dinary had happened. 

“Well, Maisie," he said, “there's the end of the 
Boundary gang — the colonel is dead. " 

“Dead?" she said, open-eyed. 

“We don't know what happened, but the theory is 
that he shot himself and set fire to the house. The body 
was found in the ruins, and I was able to identify some 
of the jewelry — you remember the police had it when 
he was arrested, and we kept a special note of it for future 
reference. " 

She heaved a long sigh. 

“That's over at last. It is the end of a nightmare," 
she §aid, “ a horrible, horrible nightmare. I wonder " 

“What do you wonder?" 

“I wonder if this is also the end of Jack o' Judgment, " 
she replied, “or whether he will continue working to bring 
to justice those people whom the law cannot touch." 

“Heaven only knows," said Stafford, “but I'll admit 
that Jack o' Judgment has been a most useful person so 
far as we are concerned. We should never have collected 
Pinto or Selby, or even the colonel, but for Jack. By 
the way, there is no news of Crewe and the girl. " 


OLD FILMS 


275 


suppose theyVe reached their destination by now?” 
she asked. 

^‘Oh, yes,” said Stafford, “hours and days ago. 
Where were they going, by the way?” 

She shook her head. 

“ I^m not going to tell you that. ” 

“You needn’t.” Stafford smiled. “They’ve gone to 
Portugal. It was Pinto’s machine and I don’t suppose he 
had any other idea Jn the world than to get back to his 
own beloved land. By the way, it looks as though Pinto 
would get ten years. To satisfy myself in regard to 
Crewe, I telegraphed to an Englishman at Finisterre, 
who is a good friend of mine, and who lives in a wild and 
isolated spot somewhere near the lighthouse, and he sent 
me back a message to the effect that an aeroplane passed 
over Finisterre yesterday afternoon soon after lunch 
time. That must be friend Lollie.” 

She nodded. 

“ Do you know, I hope they get away. Is that rather 
dreadful of me?” she said. 

He shook his head. 

“No, I don’t think so. I believe the chief shares your 
hope. He has queer views on things, and they irritate me 
sometimes. For example, he doesn’t think that the 
colonel is dead. ” 

“But I thought you had found the body?” 

“He gets over that by saying that it isn’t the body,” 
said Stafford with a little laugh of annoyance. “ It rather 
worries you after you have decided that you’ve rounded 
up the gang. I still believe that it is the colonel. ” 

She thought a moment. 

“I am inclined to agree with Sir Stanley,” said she. 


276 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


“It isn't the sort of thing that the colonel would do. 
Men like Colonel Boundary are never without hope." 

Stafford scratched his head. 

“Well, if it isn’t the colonel, he’s gone, and we’ll prob- | 
ably never see him again ! There is only the question of 
rounding up the little people of the gang, and that won’t 
be much trouble. ’’ 

She put both her hands on his shoulders and looked at | 
him smilingly. | 

“You’re an optimist, dear,’’ she said. I 

“Who wouldn’t be?’’ he replied cheerfully. “You said 
that when the gang was wound up we would drop our 
sad and lonely lives apart and form a little gang of our 
own.’’ 

She laughed and kissed him, and he went back to his 
office to find that his chief had already arrived and had , 
asked for him. Sir Stanley was reading the morning 
paper when Stafford came into his room, and his first 
words brought consternation to the younger man. 

“Stafford," he said, “this is not the body of the 
colonel. I’ve just been to see it and I’m certain. Now ■ 
you’ve got to send a call out to all stations throughout 
the country, particularly the south of England, to look 
for a man, possibly clean shaven, certainly without 
mustaches, who will be disguised as a tramp.’’ 

“Why a tramp, sir?’’ asked Stafford, with a heroic 
attempt to preserve an open mind on a subject concerning 
which he had reached a definite decision. j 

“Fifteen years ago,’’ replied Sir Stanley, “when the 
colonel did most of his own dirty work, it was his favorite 'f 
disguise. Search the casual wards, the common lodging 
houses, and the jails. It is just likely that the colonel ^ 


OLD FILMS 


277 


will commit a small offense, with the object of getting 
himself three months in jail — there’s no hiding place like 
jail, you know, Stafford. The real danger is that he may 
not actually tramp or assume the guise of the real low- 
down loafer. He may have the sense to. become a poor 
but honest workman, traveling third-class from town to 
town in search of work. Then he will present the greatest 
difficulty. He saw the look of doubt on the young man’s 
face and laughed. ^‘You think he’s dead, don’t you?” 
he said. 

“ I’m perfectly sure he is, sir, ” replied Stafford frankly. 

^‘An optimist to the last.” Sir Stanley smiled and 
dismissed him with a nod. 

Later he was to come to Stafford’s little bureau and 
tell him things which he did not know before. Then for 
the first time Stafford King discovered how closely his 
lacadaisical chief had followed the developments of the 
past few months. He learned for the first time of the big 
part which Jack o’ Judgment had played in the detection 
of the gang. 

‘^He had an office under the colonel’s flat,” said Sir 
Stanley. “Apparently it was bought with no other 
object than to provide our friend with an opportunity 
of spying on the colonel. He discolored the wall, brought 
in his own workmen, and in the colonel’s absence — he 
was driven from the occupation of the room by the 
smell — he installed microphones. With the aid of these 
he was able to listen to all the conversation downstairs 
and sometimes to chime in. It was Jack o’ Judgment 
^ho — well, perhaps I’d better not tell you that, because 
officially I am not supposed to know it. At any rate, 
Stafford,” he said more seriously, “we have seen the 


278 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


smashing of one of the most iniquitous, villainous gangs 
that ever existed. Heaven knows how many broken 
hearts there are in England today, how many poor souls 
who have been brought to a suicide’s grave through the 
machinations of Colonel Boundary and his tools. I do 
not think there has been a more immoral force in existence 
in our time, and I hope we shall never see its like again. 
You sent out the message?” he asked at parting. 

^‘Yes, sir. I warned all stations and all chief con- 
stables. ” 

‘‘Good!” said Sir Stanley; and his last words were: 
“Don’t forget — Boundary is not dead!” 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


JACK JUDGMENT REVEALED 

A STOUTiSH, gray-haired man descended from a third- 
class carriage at Chatham Station and inquired of the 
porter the way to the dockyard. He carried a kit of 
carpenter’s tools in a straw bag and smoked a short clay 
pipe. The porter looked at the man with the white, 
stubby beard critically. 

“Trying to get a job, mate?” he asked. 

“ Why, yes, ” said the man. 

“How old might you be?” demanded the porter. 

“ Sixty-four, ” said the other, and the porter shook his 
head. 

“You won’t get work easy. They’re not very keen on 
us old fellows,” he said. “Why don’t you try at Mark- 
ham’s, the builders, in the High Street? They’re short 
of men. I saw a notice outside their yard only this 
morning. ” 

The workman thanked the porter, shouldered his 
basket, and tramped down the High Street. He was 
respectably dressed, and policemen on the lookout for 
suspicious tramps did not give him a second glance. 
He spent the greater part of the day walking from yard 
to yard, everywhere receiving the same answer. Late 
in the afternoon he had better luck. A small firm of 
ship repairers was in want of a jobbing carpenter and put 
him to work at once. 

It was many years since Colonel Boundary had wielded 
279 


280 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


a saw — this colonelcy was an honorary title which he 
held by custom rather than law — but he made a good 
showing. After two hours^ work, however, his back was 
aching and his hands were sore. He was glad when the 
yard bell announced the hour for knocking off. 

He had yet to find a lodging, but this did not worry 
him. He was careful to avoid the cheaper kind of lodging 
house and went to one which catered to the artisan, 
where he could get a room of his own and a clean bed. 
He paid a deposit, washed himself and left his tools, 
then went out in search of some refreshment. 

At seven o’clock the next morning he was back at the 
yard. He thought several times during the day that he 
would have to throw the work up. His back ached, his 
arms were like lead. But he persevered, and again 
another day drew to a close. By the third day he had 
got his muscles into play and found the work easy. He 
was asked by the foreman if he would care to go into 
the country to work at a house that the head of the firm 
was building, but he declined. He wanted to remain in 
the town, where there were crowds. 

At the end of the week came his great chance. He 
had been sent down to the docks to do some repairs on a 
small steamer and had pleased the skipper, who was 
himself an elderly man, by the ability he had shown. 

“You’re worth twice some of these young men,” 
grumbled the old man. “Are you married?” 

“No,” said the other. 

“Why don’t you sign on with me?” asked the skipper. 
“I want a carpenter bad.” 

“Where are you going?” asked Boundary, breathing 
more quickly. 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT REVEALED 281 


We’re going to Valparaiso first, then we’re going to 
work down the coast, round the Horn to San Francisco, 
and maybe we’ll get a cargo across to China. ” 

“I’ll think it over,” said the colonel. 

That night he called on the captain and told him that 
he had made up his mind to go. 

“Good!” said the skipper. “But you’ll have to sign 
on tonight. I’m leaving tomorrow by the first tide. ” 

The colonel nodded, not daring to speak. Here was 
luck, the greatest in the world. Nobody would suspect a 
carpenter, taken from a local firm and shipped with the 
captain’s good will. 

At seven o’clock the next morning he was standing on 
the deck of the Arahelle Sands, watching the low coast 
line slipping past. The ship was to make one call at 
Falmouth, and two days later she reached that port. 
Boundary went ashore to buy some wood and a few 
tools that he found he needed, and pulled back to the 
ship in the afternoon. In the evening he accompanied 
the captain ashore. 

“We shan’t leave till tomorrow at twelve,” said the 
captain. “You might as well spend a night on solid earth 
while you can. It will be a long time before you smell 
dirt again. ” 

The colonel secured lodgings in the town and retired 
to his room early. He had purchased all the newspapers 
he could find, and he wanted to study them quietly. It 
was with unusual relish that he read the account of an 
inquest on himself. There was no breath of suspicion 
that he was not dead. 

“Old Dan Boundary has tricked them all.” 

He chuckled at the thought. He had deceived all 


282 


JACK 0’ JUDGMENT 


those clever men at Scotland Yard — Sir Stanley Belcom, 
Stafford King, Jack o’ Judgment! Yes, he had deceived 
Jack o’ Judgment, and that seemed the least believable 
part of the affair. All the rest of the gang were captured 
or fugitives. He wondered whether Lollie Marsh and 
Crewe had reached Portugal, and what they were doing 
there, and how long their money would last, and how 
they would earn more. He had his own money well 
secured. He had managed to get together quite a large 
sum, for there were other banks than the Victoria and 
City — odd accounts in assumed names which he had 
drawn upon on the very day of his supposed death. 

There was a tap at the door. 

Come in, ” said Boundary, thinking it the landlady. 

He was in the middle of the room as he spoke, and he 
went back step by step as the visitor entered. His tongue 
clove to the roof of his mouth, his eyes were starting 
out of his head. 

^^You!” You!” he gasped. 

‘^Little Jack o’ Judgment,” said the mask mockingly; 
“poor old Jack! Come to take farewell of the colonel 
before he goes to foreign parts ! ” 

“Stop!” cried Boundary hoarsely. “I know you, 
damn you! I know you!” 

He pulled back the curtains and glared out of the 
window. There was no need to ask any further ques- 
tions. The house was surrounded. He swung round 
again at his tormentor and faced the white mask in ^ 
blind fury of rage. 

“You’re clever, aren’t you,” he said, “cleverer than 
all the police! But you weren’t clever enough to save 
your son from death!” 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT REVEALED 283 


The masked figure reeled back. 

Ah, that got you, Little Jack o^ Judgment!” mocked 
the colonel. ‘‘That^s hit you where it hurts you most, 
hasn't it? Your only son, too! And he went to the devil 
all the faster because of me — me — me!” He struck 
his breast with his clenched fist. ‘^You can’t bring him 
back to life, can you? That’s one I’ve scored against 
you. ” 

^‘No,” said Jack o’ Judgment in a low voice, can- 
not bring him back to life, but I can destroy the man 
who destroyed him, who blighted his young life, who 
taught him vicious practices, who sapped his vitality 
with drugs.” 

‘‘That’s a lie!” said the colonel. “Crewe picked him 
up at Monte Carlo, when he was on his beam ends. ” 

“Who sent him to Monte Carlo?” asked the other. 
“Who was the gambler who brought him down and 
received the wreck he had made with the pretense that 
he had never met him before? It was you, Bound- 
ary!” 

The colonel nodded. 

“It was I,” he said with satisfaction. “I was a fool 
to deny it. I pretended to Crewe that I hadn’t met him 
before. Yes, it was I, and I glory in it. You think you’re 
going to arrest me now, and put me where I belong — 
on the scaffold, maybe. But, you can never wipe that 
memory out of your mind — that you had a son who died 
in the gutter, that you’re a childless old man who has 
no son to follow you!” 

“I can’t wipe that out!” said Jack o’ Judgment. 
“I can’t wipe that out!” He raised his hand to his 
masked face as though to hide the picture which Bound- 


284 


JACK JUDGMENT 


ary conjured. ^^But I can wipe you out, ” he said fiercely, 
‘'and Fve given my life, my career, my reputation, all 
that I hold dear to get you! IVe smashed your schemes, 
I’ve ruined you, even if I’ve ruined myself. They’re 
waiting for you downstairs. Boundary. I told them to 
be here at this very minute. Stafford King 

“You’ll never see me taken,” said Boundary. 

Two shots rang out together, and the colonel sprawled 
back over the bed, dead. Propped against the wall was 
Jack o’ Judgment, and the hand that gripped his breast 
dripped red. 

They heard the shots outside. Stafford King was the 
first to enter the room. One glance at the colonel was 
sufficient, and then he turned to the man who had 
slipped to the floor and was sitting with his back propped 
against the wall. 

“Jack o’ Judgment,” said Stafford wonderingly. 

“Poor old Jack!” said the mocking voice. 

Stafford’s arm was about his shoulder, and he laid the 
head gently back upon his bent knee. He lifted the mask 
gently, and the light of the oil lamp which swung from 
the ceiling fell upon the white face. 

“Sir Stanley Belcom! Sir Stanley!” he whispered. 

Sir Stanley turned his head and opened hig eyes. The 
old look of good humor shone. 

“Poor old Jack o’ Judgment!” he mimicked. “This 
is going to be a first-class scandal, Stafford. For the sake 
of the service you ought to hush it up.” 

“But nobody need know, sir,” said Stafford. “You 
can explain to the home secretary ” 

Sir Stanley shook his head. 

“I’m going to see a greater Home Secretary than ever 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT REVEALED 285 


lived in Whitehall/^ he said slowly. finished, 

j Stafford. Strip this mummery from me if you can.’^ 

With shaking hands Stafford King tore off the black 
cloak and fiung it under the bed. 

^‘Now,^’ said Sir Stanley weakly, ^^you can introduce 
me to the provincial police as the head of our department 
! and you can keep my secret, Stafford — if you will.’^ 
Stafford laid his hand upon Sir Stanley’s. 

[ ‘‘I told my solicitor” — Sir Stanley spoke with diffi- 

culty — “to give you a letter in case — in case anything 
. happened. I know I haven’t played the game as I should, 
j I ought to have resigned years ago when I found what 
S had happened to my poor boy. I was chief of police in 
’ one of the provinces of India at the time, but they 
: wouldn’t let me go. I came to Scotland Yard and was 
promoted. No, I haven’t played the game as I should 
with the department. And yet perhaps I have.” 

He did not speak for some time. 

His breathing was growing fainter and fainter, and 
when Stafford asked him, he said he was in no pain. 

“I had to deceive you,” he said after a while; “I had 
to pretend that Jack o’ Judgment called on me, too. 
That was to take suspicion from your — Miss White.” 
He smiled. “No; I haven’t played the game. I stood 
for the law, and yet — I broke that gang, which the law 
could not touch. I broke them! I broke them!” he 
whispered. “If Boundary hadn’t known me I should 
have been gone before you came, and resigned tomorrow,” 
he said; “but he must have discovered the boy’s name. 
I wonder he hadn’t tried before. I smashed them; 
didn’t I, Stafford? It cost me thousands. I have com- 
mitted almost every kind of crime. I robbed the diamond 


286 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT 


smiths^ — but you must give me your word you will 
never tell. Phillopolis must suffer. They must all be 
punished.” 

Stafford had [sent the police from the room, but the 
police surgeon would not be denied. He had the sense 
to see that nothing could be done for the dying man, 
however, and that a change of position would probably 
hasten the end. He, too, left him alone with King. 

^‘Stafford, I have quite a lot of money,” said the first 
commissioner; ^‘it is yours. There’s a will — yours.” 

Then he ceased to speak, and Stafford thought that 
the end had come, but did not dare move in case he were 
mistaken. After five minutes the man in his arms stirred 
slightly, and his voice sounded strangely clear and 
strong. 

'' Gregory, my boy! Good old Gregory! Father’s 
here, old man ! ” 

His voice died away to a rumble and then to a murmur. 

The tears were running down Stafford’s face. He 
sensed all the tragedy, all the loneliness of this man 
who had offered so cheerful a face to the world. Then 
Sir Stanley struggled to draw himself to his feet and 
Stafford held him. 

^‘Gently, sir, gently,” he said; ^‘you’re only hurting 
yourself.” 

The dying man laughed. It was a little shrill chuckle 
of merriment, and Stafford’s blood ran cold. 

^‘Here I am, poor old Jack o’ Judgment! Little old 
Jack o’ Judgment! Give me the lives you took and the 
hopes you’ve blasted. Give them to^Jack o’ Judgment— 
Jack o’ Judgment!” 

They were his last words. 


JACK 0^ JUDGMENT REVEALED 287 


A year later First Commissioner Sir Stafford King 
received a letter from South America. It contained 
nothing but a photograph — of a very good-looking man 
and a singularly pretty woman, who held in her lap a 
very tiny baby. 

^^Here is the last of the Boundary gang,’’ said Sir 
Stafford to Maisie. “It is the one happy ending that 
has emerged from so much misery and evil.” 

“Why, it is Lollie Marsh!” 

“Lollie Crewe, I think her name is now,” said Stafford. 
“It was queer how Sir Stanley recognized the only human 
members of the gang.” 

“Then they got away after all?” said the girl. “I’ve 
often wondered what happened at that aerodrome.” 

Stafford laughed. 

“Oh, yes,” he said dryly, “they got away. They left 
at twenty minutes past three, after a long argument with 
the aviator, a man named Cartwright.” 

“How do you know?” she asked. 

“Sir Stanley and I watched them go off,” said Stafford. 

He looked at the photograph again and shook his head. 

“There were times when the judgment of Jack was 
very merciful,” he said soberly. 


THE END 


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